


Annoyance

by Marli13



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Car Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Smut, Stabbing, bisexual reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 117,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25545664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marli13/pseuds/Marli13
Summary: Your coworker Dr. Spencer Reid is a thorn in your side. And although he annoys you to no end, there's way more to your tumultuous relationship than just that. Female reader, enemies to lovers, slow burn, nsfw :)
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 486
Kudos: 946





	1. The Elevator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story does have a happy ending!
> 
> This story includes dark themes such as cutting/blood, drug abuse, murder, rape, thoughts of suicide, torture, and overall violence.
> 
> Please consume this media at your own risk.

Perhaps it was in the way he said your name. Or the way he flexed his hands after writing for a long while. Or perhaps it was when he bit his lip while his brain went into overdrive trying to solve some kind of mystery.

“Hey, could you hold the elevator?”

For some absolute reason, you could not stand Spencer Reid. He was always pleasant to you and everyone else as far as you knew, and brilliant to boot. But for some reason, any time that he opened his mouth your first instinct was to bite back a sigh of annoyance.

“Yeah, sure,” you said, jutting your arm out to stop the doors from closing. The next 2-4 minutes were going to be stressful.

“Thanks!” Spencer grinned as he slid into the elevator with you.

“Yeah, of course.” You lightly smiled back, staring straight ahead as the elevator doors closed. Leaving you alone with Spencer.

“Any uh… plans for the weekend?”

It was the timidness, honestly. You knew there was something there, something hiding under the surface that was not so awkward, not so innocent. It was maddening, watching him bumble around and act so clueless when you knew damn well what he was doing. Showing awkwardness outwardly creates a sort of trustworthiness to those who observe it; allowing someone to see you in a vulnerable state creates this trust. Nobody gave a second thought to it, but you saw it for what it was. He was a liar.

“Nope. You?” 

“Yeah, actually. There’s a screening of a foreign film I want to see, La Regle du Jeu. It was originally banned for being unpatriotic considering it was filmed before WWII. They’re showing the entire uncut version, I didn’t realize they were able to put together the entire thing.”

You pondered for a moment, deciding if it was worth it to speak up.

“Renoir honestly did a great job with that movie. The point of view they made when filming, making you seem like a spectator? Super cool. Plus, who doesn’t love a good movie about classism?”  
Reid’s head whipped to you so fast you thought it could be on a swivel.

“You like French film?”

The incredulous note in his voice irritated you. Did he not think you were cultured enough to enjoy French film? Two floors left. You bit back a sigh.

“Yeah, I’m semi-fluent. Not as good as I used to be. Nothing fancy, just mandatory language that I needed to graduate college.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to come with me tonight, if you want! I’m pretty sure they’ll have most of the subtitles so you can enjoy it. Or I can just translate parts of it for you too.”

Boy, he was cocky. As if you needed his help. You turned and looked at him as the elevator slowed and the doors opened with a ding.

“I’m good, but thanks for the offer. Have a nice weekend.” You smiled politely, but coldly.

“Oh, okay. See you around!”

You sighed in annoyance, going over the interaction while you walked to your car. Spencer was smarter than everyone, and everyone knew it. It was the constant display of intelligence and his show-offy behavior got really tiring really fast. It was like he expected that nobody could keep up with him, so he spent every waking moment reminding everyone of it. 

Maybe you were too competitive. Maybe you had an inferiority complex. It’s not like you couldn’t do his job, it’s that you didn’t want to. The psychological toll that the profilers endured was something you knew would be too much, so you chose a desk job in the same unit. You wanted to help, but you didn’t want to ruin your own mental health in the long run. Perhaps that was also part of the problem. You chose not to do the job, and people like Spencer just assumed you couldn’t. It wasn’t the work that was the problem, it was the fallout. The constant assumptions that you just weren’t good enough were too overwhelming.  
The thing is, you knew very well that nobody was really thinking that. To be honest, nobody from work probably even thought about you once they left the building. It was just your insecurities speaking for themselves.

With another sigh, you closed your car door, started the car, and headed home for another eventless weekend.  



	2. Bad Case of the Mondays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW : vomit

You hated Mondays.

Your head was pounding in your hands as you tried to block out the fluorescents from above, as if that would do anything to cure the epic migraine you had. It felt like someone had frozen your brain and then microwaved it halfway before putting it back into your skull. Every beat of your heart made your head pound and your eyes and teeth ache, sending shooting pains down the back of your head. Gritting your teeth only made it worse, but the pain distracted you from the tears that would surely come if you relaxed your jaw, and the rolling nausea that threatened to overtake you.

Migraines weren’t uncommon for you; you could usually get through the day with one. This just seemed to be a particularly awful one. You just wanted a moment of silence in the break area, a reprieve from the noise of the entire world and here Spencer was, ruining it. Every clink of his spoon against his coffee mug and every word that came out of his mouth just induced more and more pain. Could he not see you were suffering? Did he just not care that you were almost in tears from the pain? He just kept chatting absentmindedly at you, not even bothering to look back to see if you were listening. You were desperate for relief, the feeling of a waiting sob heavy on your chest and threatening to burst if it got any worse than this. You couldn’t take it anymore. You snapped.

“God, do you ever get tired of listening to yourself!?”

Oh, fuck. Opening your mouth had been a bad idea. You were going to throw up. You pushed yourself out of your chair as fast as you could and rushed to the women’s restroom. You covered your mouth as you got there, just barely making it in time to empty your stomach contents into the toilet. You knew you got some vomit on your hand and the floor, but all you could think about was ridding your body of whatever illness had possessed you. 

You don’t know how long you sat there on the cold bathroom floor, resting your head on your arms that were propped up on the toilet seat. All you knew was that any sudden movement would trigger another round of dry heaving. You sat there on the for what seemed like forever, shifting slightly every once in awhile as your legs started to fall asleep. You closed your eyes and your mind started to wander. The migraine had reduced itself to a duller ache. Still pounding, but not deafening. You almost didn’t realize you had started to fall asleep until the restroom door opened and somebody made their way down the row, jolting you out of your rest.

“Y/N?”

You glanced up to see your coworker Emily looking concerned. She knelt down, putting a soothing hand on your back.

“Hey girl, are you doing okay?” How embarrassing. Being caught half asleep leaning over a toilet seat at work with vomit on yourself. Lovely.

“Uh, yeah I’m doing great,” you croaked, giving a small laugh to diffuse the awkwardness. God your mouth and throat were so dry.

“Okay, well how about we get you out of here, huh? Can you get up?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Emily rose and you took the hand she offered you, slowly rising up and leaning on the side of the stall as pins and needles made their way through your legs. 

“Let me just clean up first, okay?” 

“Absolutely.” Emily used the restroom as you made your way to the sink to wash your hands and rinse out your mouth, using a damp paper towel to blot away any remnants left on your shirt. She joined you shortly after, watching you closely as you leaned onto the counter for support.

“Are you safe to drive?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a migraine.”

She nodded in sympathy as the two of you walked out. You kept your head down to counteract the pain the bright lights gave you. Emily walked you to your desk in the bullpen while you packed up your things.

“Are you sure you don’t need a ride or anything?” Emily was a good friend. You wished that you knew her better. The profilers of the BAU tended to stick close together and didn’t really fraternize outside of their little group. 

You were mostly okay with that. They all seemed like really decent people, it just felt like there was a very distinct hierarchy in the unit. You knew you were below them, not as important, but they still treated you with kindness and would invite you and other coworkers to hang out with them every once in awhile. Many people didn’t accept; it felt almost like a third wheel situation, and it was extremely intimidating hanging out with other people who seemed to be able to read your mind. 

There was also that voice in your head that told you that these people knew human behavior so well that they could imitate it. They could be anyone they wanted to be at any time. And though they seemed genuine at work, sometimes a look here or an offhanded comment there made you wonder who these people really were underneath the surface. Were they being themselves or were they being the person that other people expected?

Not like you were one to talk. You had taken the courses too. You could fool them just as much as they could fool you.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I can make it. Thanks, Emily.” You looked at her concerned face and smiled softly, slipping on your sunglasses and grabbing your keys.

“Okay. Stay safe, alright?” 

You nodded, your head starting to pound again as you started walking towards the elevator. Hopefully tomorrow would be better.


	3. The Files

_Hey, Y/N! It’s Emily. Hope you got home safely. Text if you need anything!_

You smiled at your phone as you rolled over in bed. How sweet of Emily to check on you. 

_Thanks, Em! Feeling much better today. I’ll see you soon :)_

You decided to get out of bed and get to work early. Leaving early the day before created extra work for you, and you really didn’t feel like staying late today to finish it. 

Thinking of yesterday… You felt bad for what you had said to Spencer. He certainly didn’t deserve it. Your stomach twisted into knots, thinking about how you were going to have to see him and apologize to him later today. You practiced what you were going to say to Spencer in the car. Part of you wondered if maybe you could just pretend it didn’t happen, but the more you thought about it, the more dread you felt. Your guilty conscience couldn’t let you live like this, even if you didn’t like Spencer to begin with.

You didn’t see him walk in this morning, so when you turned from the coffee pot to go back to your desk, you jumped when you saw him standing right behind you.

“Oh!” you gasped, heart pounding. “Hey, Reid! Sorry I’m in your way, I didn’t see you come in.”

He just pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement of you. Okay… 

You took a deep breath, ready to start your apology when he opened his mouth to speak.

“Are you almost done? I have something to do and you’re kind of in my way.”

You could here the impatience in his voice, and the frosty demeanor beneath it. So that’s how it was going to be.

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, moving out of his way. You continued to stand there awkwardly as he made his coffee, trying to think of the best way to broach the subject.

“Hey, Spencer. About yesterday-”

Reid set his coffee cup down loudly, sighing. It caught you so off guard that you paused in the middle of your speech. Your temper flared. Here you were, trying to apologize and he was interrupting you.

“I’m sorry, is there a problem?” you asked. Maybe it was the way that you said it. You knew that sometimes you could be a little too confrontational. You had a tendency to lose your patience a little too quickly. Either way, Spencer looked down at you with a cold look in his eyes.

“Sorry. Guess I was getting a little too tired listening to you.” He snatched his cup off of the counter and stalked off, leaving you all alone with your mouth wide open. 

How dare he! You were literally just trying to apologize and he decided to twist your apology into an insult to you. 

But as mad as you were about it, it was almost gratifying to hear him this way. You knew you were right about him.

-

“Oh my god, Pen! You can’t say that!” you laughed. She whirled around in her chair to look at you before bursting into laughter herself.

“Okay, but you know I’m right!”

“Whether or not you’re right, you still can’t make generalizations like that!” You smiled and then happened to notice the time on the bottom side of one of her computer screens.

“Okay well as fun as this is, I’m gonna have to go back to my desk. I have stuff I have to take care of since I left early yesterday.”

“Oh I heard about that!” she exclaimed. “Emily said it was a migraine. Are you feeling okay?”

You waved off her worry as you gathered your files and started to walk out of her office.

“Yeah, I’m okay! They’re not usually that bad honestly. Just a one-off I think. Anyways, I gotta get back. I’ll see you later!”

You were looking over your shoulder at her when you ran full speed into someone else entering her office. Your case files fell to the floor with a thunk, loose papers flying as you bounced backward into the door frame, jamming your shoulder on the edge as someone else grabbed your arms to steady you.

“Ouch! Fuck! Sorry! Are you okay?” The words poured out of your mouth so quickly that you didn’t even realize who you had bumped into. Dr. Spencer Reid. 

“Yes, I’m okay. Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You clammed up quickly, dropping to the floor to pick up your files. You realized there were a lot more on the floor than what you had in your hands. Some of these were his. Your face burned as he crouched down to help you, his hands occasionally bumping into yours as the two of you quickly sorted through everything silently.

“Sorry again,” you muttered as you scampered off with your files. He nodded at you as he went to enter Penelope’s office. You could still feel the warmth of his hands on your skin.

-

It wasn’t until much later that you realized in annoyance that you had accidentally picked up some of Spencer’s papers. They had gotten mixed into your files so you had to go through everything and double check that it belonged to that specific file. After putting them in a nice stack, you looked up to see if he was at his desk so you could hand them to him. His bag was gone, so he was probably gone for the day. Oh, well. On your way out of the office you set them on his desk, neatly paperclipped.

-

_Hey Y/N, it’s Spencer. I got your number from Emily. I’m missing some papers from my files and I think you have them_

_Yeah I put them on your desk_

_Okay, I just needed them to finish my work tonight_

_Well they’re on your desk_

_Why didn’t you give them to me earlier?_

_I didn’t realize until later. I had to go through all of my case files to dig your papers out of them_

_Thanks for that. Guess I’ll have to go back to the office tonight to get them_

_Yeah I guess so. Maybe next time consider using paperclips_


	4. The Roof

Deep down, you knew that it was wrong to antagonize Spencer. You don’t normally pick fights, either. You’re just not that type of person. But they way he had interrupted you and been so cold? It gave you a reason to dislike him even more than you already did. You could see that you were pushing his buttons, irritating him more and more with each passing day. And as wrong as you knew it was, you couldn’t help wondering how far you could take it before he snapped.

Were you plotting things to do to him just because you were bored? Maybe. Perhaps it was some sort of manifestation, or just cruel fate, but the more that you thought about Spencer, the more you started to notice him. He was around the office a lot more than normal, he was almost always in the kitchen or break room when you were there, he was hogging Penelope’s office. It’s like he knew that they were your safe spaces and decided to invade them. You hadn’t had any decent girl chat with Penelope for the past two weeks because he always seemed to be there first or he would stumble upon you while you were there, making everything tense.

That being said, the deprivation of your girl time with Penelope was being made up by your blooming friendship with Emily. She had taken you to a casino and taught you some poker tips, and you guys had even hung out at your apartment once, sipping on some wine while watching a movie. You had started to open up to each other, but not too much. You mostly talked about books, movies, or hobbies. You hadn’t told anyone about your problems with Spencer. You thought you had hidden it well until Penelope brought it up one day while you were delivering something to her office.

“So I have to ask,” she said, spinning in her chair to face you. “What is going on between you and the good doctor?”

“You mean Spencer? Nothing at all. Why?”

She quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Well it’s just that every time you run into each other it gets colder than the Arctic Circle in here. You act totally different when he’s here, too. Did something happen?”

You took a deep breath. You could confide in your friend, or you could keep this professional and stay quiet about it. You knew Spencer and Penny were friends. She may say something to him about your response, if she hadn’t already asked him about it. You didn’t think so, but she was most likely biased towards him anyways. You knew how close they were.

“We just have some… disagreements with each other. It’s not a problem, we just don’t really get along. To be quite honest, I think-”

You were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Who else could it be but the doctor, coming to disrupt your girl time. You blushed lightly. How much did he hear? You weren’t about to stick around to find out. He entered the office as you turned to look at Penelope, slightly flustered. She had an almost deer-in-the-headlights look, but tried to tone it down before he noticed.

Then it struck you. Just like you had been purposely messing with him, he had been doing the same to you. You had just been doing small things like leaving random paperclips on his desk or putting small pieces of trash right next to his trashcan rather than in it so he would have to pick it up. You’d also been moving his coffee mug around in the cabinet. He always put it in the same place so you had just been shifting it around every now and again to mess with him.

However, Spencer was engaging in psychological warfare. He knew that Penny was a very close friend of yours, he knew what places you enjoyed most at work. You were generally non-confrontational so whenever he showed up somewhere you would leave before you had to interact with him. But that’s what he wanted. He wanted you to feel uncomfortable, he wanted you to feel like you were cut off from your friends, like you had nowhere at work to get a reprieve from him except when he was gone. That bastard.

Rather than leaving, you decided to stand your ground. You had every right to be here, just like he did.

“Hey, Spence. What’s up?” You used the nickname JJ gave him, knowing that it would set him off. You weren’t close enough friends for you to use it, but you knew it would irritate him to no end. His eyes flicked to you and then back to Penelope.

“I just needed Garcia to run some stuff for me really quickly.”

You nodded and moved over so he could step in between you and Penelope. You leaned on her file cabinet, watching silently as he bent down to show her the files and what he needed her to do. His tones were hushed and he was stammering a bit, and you smiled slightly.

He had been expecting you to leave. Except you didn’t, so now he was the one who felt like he was interrupting something. Now _he_ was uncomfortable. Is this what a power trip felt like? No wonder he had been antagonizing you this way.

You’d never really taken the time to look at Spencer, but now gave you the chance to really observe him. He was attractive in a kind of dorky way. He had grown out his hair a bit recently and it was actually really… cute? 

Ew. Nope. Not gonna go there. Spencer finished speaking to Penelope and straightened up. He really was quite tall. 

“You can just email me what you find, thanks,” he said. 

“No problem, sugar!”

He turned around and almost bumped into you, startled, not anticipating that you had continued to stand so close to him. You smirked at him as he made eye contact with you.

“Bye, Spence.” 

The look on his face? Fucking priceless. He pursed his lips.

“Yeah, see you around.”

Something in your brain said that it wasn’t enough. He was irritated but not upset, and you wanted him to be just as upset as you were. Here he was, sabotaging your work place for you. Well, two could play at that game. You wanted to give him something to think about for later. As he started to walk past, you shifted slightly onto your left foot so that you shoulder checked him.

“Oh! Sorry about that,” you giggled. He narrowed his eyes and continued walking, not even sparing a second look. You resisted the urge to look back. You wanted to see how mad he was, but couldn’t risk Penny noticing you watching him.

“Y/N!” she exclaimed in a whisper, turning to look at you. “What are you doing?”

You laughed.

“Nothing! We’re just messing around, it’s okay! Don’t worry about it, Pen.”

She gave you a skeptical look.

“Okay, well just be careful. Don’t make him too mad, okay?”

Oh?

“You’ve seen him mad before?” You leaned forward, interested in what she was going to say.

“Once or twice. Just… don’t mess with him too much, okay? He’s kind of sensitive.”

You nodded sincerely, hoping she didn’t see right through you.

“Yeah of course, Pen. I’m only playing, I promise.”

Satisfied with your answer, she turned back around to her desk and continued to chat with you for awhile.

-

You had fulfilled your daily dose of antagonizing Spencer. You didn’t really feel like running into him anymore so you opted to go to the roof for a small break in the afternoon. Sitting outside on a concrete block was pretty nice, honestly. The sun and the slight breeze helped you decompress a bit. Hearing the rooftop door open, you turned around in confusion. As far as you knew, nobody else came up here. 

You weren’t surprised to see Reid standing there, honestly. It was only a matter of time before he came to ruin something else for you. You just turned back around. You were going to ignore him for as long as you possibly could. He was used to being the golden child of the profilers, getting praise and attention for being so brilliant. Surely it must drive him crazy for you to treat him like he was so insignificant.

He came to stand straight in front of you, blocking the sun and towering over you where you sat. Looking up at him, he seemed even taller from down here. And that look in his eyes? You truly felt intimidated. And yet, you got a flare of courage when he did this. His whole plan was to come up here and intimidate you, and you weren’t going to let him have that.

“What is your problem?” he spit out at you. You just shrugged, trying to keep a smile off of your face. He was mad.

“What, you’re not going to answer me? I haven’t done anything to you, I don’t understand why you’re acting so childish.” Oh, so he was playing dumb. You looked him in the eyes and stood up, forcing him to take a step back from you.

“Sorry, Spence. Did I hurt your feelings? I thought being a profiler and all, it would be a little more difficult than that.”

He narrowed his eyes at you.

“What, are you jealous of me being a profiler? Is that why you’ve decided you don’t like me? Or are you so insecure of your own abilities in the workplace that you feel the need to take them out on someone else?”

He was going to profile you. Two could play that game.

“Okay, _Doctor_ ," you snapped. “Go ahead and let me know when you’re done playing out your superiority complex so that I can get back to doing my job. You know, the one that I _chose_ to do.”

He laughed bitterly at you.

“MY superiority complex? So you _are_ jealous that you can’t be a profiler. Good to know.”

You struggled to stay calm. You knew he was just trying to get a rise out of you, trying to raise your blood pressure. You took a deep breath to gather your thoughts before replying.

“No, _you’re_ jealous of me, aren’t you? Isn’t that why you came up here to intimidate me? You don’t like how I do my job? You don’t like my friendships with our coworkers? Or maybe, just maybe, you can’t stand that I don’t care about anything you have to say. I think you’re just trying to project your feelings of insecurity on me because you can’t fathom how somebody may not like you. Whatever. Go find someone else who cares what you think.”

You turned to leave and he lunged to grab your shoulder, turning you back around to face him.

“This conversation isn’t over.” You jerked your shoulder from his grasp, giving him a look of disgust.

“I didn’t give you permission to touch me. And now that you mention it, I’m tired of listening to you. This conversation _is_ over.”

You stalked off, throwing the door to the stairwell open and rushing down as quickly as possible, hoping he would get the hint not to catch up.

-

You stewed in your thoughts the rest of the day. A new wave of fury would spill over you every few minutes, distracting you from your work. God, he was so fucking _annoying!_ And touching you like that out of the blue? Unacceptable.

You resisted the urge not to glare at him from your desk. You tried to keep your face as neutral as possible so that he wouldn’t realize how much his words had bothered you today. Were you really jealous of him and the attention that he got? Maybe. But it was infuriating that he insinuated that you couldn’t do the job just as well as he could. You had been with the unit longer than he had, you had been offered a spot on the profiling team that you turned down, a spot that he took. 

You kept your headphones in the rest of the day and turned the music up loud so that you wouldn’t have to think about it. Whether you realized you were looking or not, Spencer was withdrawn for the rest of the day and packed up to leave early. You breathed a sigh of relief the second he was gone.

Now you could focus. But now that you thought about it… you were a different person than you were all of those years ago when you turned down that profiling position. You had gone to therapy, worked on yourself. And at work, it seemed like you had to work harder than your associates to prove yourself worthy of praise, worthy of your job, even though you knew you were just as capable, if not more capable, than everyone else there. Perhaps it was because you were a woman. Perhaps it was because you were content to sit in solitude and do your job, and then go home to sit in solitude some more. Maybe it was time for a change.

No time like the present. Unit Chief Hotchner was still in his office for the evening. Without a second thought, you ascended the stairs to his office, your heart pounding. You set your shoulders back and knocked commandingly.

“Come in,” his voice called. He looked up when you opened the door, and seemed surprised to see you standing there. You had worked with Aaron for quite a long time now. You knew each other pretty well, and he had always extended his help to you if you needed it, but you had always preferred to do things on your own.

“Please, have a seat. What can I do for you, Y/N?” 

You sat down, crossing your legs to stop them from shaking.

“Agent Hotchner, I think I’m ready for that promotion.”

He seemed taken aback by your straightforwardness.

“And what has led you to this conclusion?”

You leaned forward.

“I’m getting tired of sitting at a desk, and I think I can be more helpful out in the field. I am more than qualified, and any qualms that I had in the past about it are resolved. I think I would make a good addition to the team, and I would appreciate it if you gave me another chance.”

He leaned back in his chair, contemplating silently for a few moments.

“And why now?”

You smiled softly. 

“I just think it’s time for a change.”


	5. First Case

You had asked Agent Hotchner not to mention to the team that you were training to be a profiler. You had done the work and the classes when you were younger, but you still needed to pass a field test, pass your shooting test, and take a written and verbal “exam” with Aaron to be considered part of the team. After that, you would be a probationary member until you proved that you were a valuable asset and not a waste of funds.

Derek Morgan had been so kind as to offer assistance with your field training, seeing as he did it for almost everyone in the unit to begin with. You really liked Derek. His insistence on perfection was something you greatly admired. He drilled you every chance he got, sparing no feelings as he tore you down. Over the course of a few weeks, he was starting to give you less and less feedback; you were doing almost everything right. 

It was emotionally exhausting, having him rip you apart over and over again. You had a tendency to take things personally, which made it even more difficult. Some sessions he was so ruthless that you cried after he left. You knew why Morgan was so harsh, though. This job included making decisions between life and death all the time. You had to get it right, or someone wouldn’t be going home alive.

-

You had passed. Aaron had decided your scores were good enough, and you had whizzed through your field test with flying colors. 

Finally, it was your turn to go upstairs and sit at the round table.

-

Garcia had said that this case was more difficult than most. It had involved kids.

You had always handled the paperwork and the files in a removed spot, almost always after the fact. Being thrown into the field, where things were happening at real time, was terrifying. One wrong conclusion, one mistake, and somebody could die. You knew this, obviously, but the thought was cemented more and more into your brain as the case wore on. 

You had been scared all week to speak up for fear that you would be wrong. You walked on eggshells, and yet everyone on the team encouraged you to speak up, especially Aaron and Emily. They believed in you and your skills. You just had to believe in yourself. You had made some good points that the others had run with, which helped build your confidence slightly. You held on to that fact; this validated your idea that you really did belong with the team.

And then it was over. You hadn’t been the one to catch the unsub. You had been at the perimeter with JJ, keeping an eye out just in case the unsub tried to run. You were okay with that. You couldn’t bear to see what happened inside of that house, and neither could she.

The jet wasn’t leaving until tomorrow, so the team was staying another night in town. Almost immediately after arriving to your room, you turned on the shower and sat there under the scalding water, sobbing. 

You didn’t cry often, but when you did, you cried _a lot_. It was a mixture of things this time. Part of it was the release of the tension your body had been holding for the past week. You had made it through your first case. It had been horrific. You sat there, thinking about the children, the loss of life, and the physical and mental scars that these children would hold forever. It was too much. And it made you wonder, could you really do this?

Eventually, after a very long while, you had cried yourself out. Stepping out of the shower, you got into your pajamas and crawled into the bed, nursing a bottle of water and staring at the wall. It was way after midnight and you were starting to get hungry. You hadn’t eaten properly in days, the case getting to be too much for you to the point where you could barely stomach food. 

You remembered seeing a vending machine around the corner in a little nook by the windows. You ventured out of your room to find it, stopping in front of the old-fashioned machine. Reaching for your pockets, you realized you had your pajamas on. No money. You sighed, just staring at the backlit machine, tears coming to your eyes again. You couldn’t even do this correctly, could you?

You hadn’t heard him so much as felt his presence, so it was no surprise when Spencer came to stand next to you in the hallway. No words were said. He didn’t turn to look at you, and you didn’t turn to look at him. You were thankful for that. You didn’t want him to see your red, puffy eyes or your trembling lip. He just stood there next to you as you sniffled and wiped your tears.

You had tried so hard to set aside your differences this week to work with him. He had spent the entire week not interacting with you. He didn’t ignore you, but he didn’t speak to you either. He never asked you for opinions or input. It was like you hadn’t existed to him. You knew he didn’t particularly enjoy having you around, and you knew the best way to keep from fighting was to limit interaction with him, but it still hurt.

That’s why it was so confusing to have him standing there with you. Was this his way of trying to comfort you? Why did he go out of his way to ignore you all week, just to seek you out at a time where you were extremely vulnerable? Was this just a different way for him to embarrass you? Corner you at a time where you needed space the most? You started to get worked up again, but forced yourself to think it through.

No, you finally decided. Spencer could be a dick sometimes, but he wasn’t sadistic like that. Maybe, just maybe, he needed someone to comfort him too. Maybe he needed to know that someone cared just as much as he did. And with that thought you started to calm down, focusing on his breathing next to you as you tried to regulate your own. 

The two of you stood there in silence next to each other until the sun began to rise. You were the first to break away, avoiding any contact with him that you could. You didn’t even look at him. You felt like it would break the spell the two of you had created, a spell that, for the moment, rendered your feud null and void. 

Shuffling down the hallway, you entered your room and collapsed on the bed, waiting there until your alarm went off to head to the airport.


	6. The Pen

You were grateful that the team chose to ignore how you held Emily’s hand on the flight home. You sat with your head against the window, eyes closed as you played music through your headphones to drown out the world. You knew this was going to be exhausting, knew it wasn’t going to be easy. You just didn’t expect for it to take so much out of you.

Hotch had given the team a few days off, and you spent both of them in bed. It wasn’t depression, per se, but you needed extra time to process the events of last week. You slept a lot, thankfully dreamless sleep, and got takeout when you could. Yet no matter how much you slept, you still felt tired. You knew the emotional labor you had expended was more than you could handle, so you spent most of your time watching mind-numbing television and surfing social media on your phone. Anything to distract you from the photos you’d seen. 

Your first day back, you were summoned to Hotch’s office. Your heart racing, you climbed the stairs. You’d forgotten about the fact that you would get feedback. Were you actually a valuable asset to the team? Hotch took a seat as his desk and you followed suit, slightly sitting on your hands so you wouldn’t start to wring them with worry.

“You did a nice job, Agent. Thank you for your hard work out there. I know it isn’t easy, but you gave it your all, and that is greatly appreciated. We’re still keeping you on probation as per protocol, but I have no doubts that you’ll succeed with us in the future.” 

You breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God. Your heart rate started to decelerate until you had processed the next words that came out of his mouth.

“A new job comes with new paperwork and new responsibilities. Today, you’re going to sit with Dr. Reid while he walks you through how to handle casework after traveling. He does it very quickly and efficiently, so I’m sure he will teach you well.”

Seeing the look on your face, Hotchner paused.

“Is that… going to be a problem for you, Agent?”

You composed yourself and smiled.

“Absolutely not. I apologize, I was just really worried about my feedback. I really appreciate your encouragement. Do you think you could email me some tips or things you would like me to improve upon for our next case?”

He eyed you warily but you suppose he decided that pursuing this new line of questioning wasn’t worth the time.

“Of course. Paperwork is usually due within 3-5 days after a case, so get to work. I’ll be looking out for your files. Don’t hesitate to ask if you have any other questions. I’ve already informed Reid that you’ll be joining him today, so he’s already waiting for you. Good luck.”

“Thanks, Hotch.” You stood from his desk, shook his hand, and made your way down to the bullpen. You decided to go over to Reid first and get the awkward moment out of the way. He looked up while you were walking over, and you made eye contact with him as you did. He had really pretty eyes.

“Hey, Y/N. Pull up a chair and we’ll get started.”

You grabbed your chair from your desk and rolled it over. It was then that you realized. These desks were spacious enough for one person, but not enough for two. You were going to be cramped next to this man all day. You sighed lightly and pulled your chair next to his, squeezing in beside him.

This was going to be so uncomfortable. You were hyperaware of how close your knees and shoulders were to almost touching, and you could feel his warmth through the cardigan he wore. He smelled like men’s deodorant and coffee and old books, something so comforting to you that you had to shake your head to snap out if it. This was inappropriate.

“Alright, so-”

Without any introduction, Reid turned to the computer and started to explain the process of paperwork. How to find the files, what to fill out where, what order things should go in, etc. You were trying to pay attention, you really were. But the warmth coming from his body and the drone of his voice and the leftover tiredness you felt from the week before started to get to you, and you started to zone out entirely. You resisted the urge to rest your head on your hand because you knew you’d probably fall asleep if you did.

It wasn’t until he turned to look at you that you realized you had gotten completely out of focus. From the look on his face it was clear that he had asked a question, but since you weren’t listening you had no idea what to say. You opened your mouth and then closed it again, thinking of what to do.

“Uh, sorry, could you repeat the question?”

Spencer sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, did you want to learn how to do this or not? Because I feel like I’m wasting my time if you’re not even going to listen to me.” You opened your mouth to reply, but Derek beat you to it.

“Hey kid, take it easy! I almost fell asleep over here listening to you, that poor girl doesn’t even stand a chance.”

A few surrounding people chuckled. Spencer opened his eyes and stared into yours, frowning. You bit your lip, trying so hard not to laugh as the annoyance washed over his face.

“Go grab the forms from the printer and fill them out here. I’ll look over them when you’re done.”

You nodded silently, still suppressing a smile as you meandered over to the copy machine to grab the papers. You didn’t like the way he spoke to you, but you did love how annoyed he was, and you knew that he could tell it was entertaining you. You plopped back down next to him after retrieving the papers.

“Shoot,” you mumbled. Spencer turned to look at you.

“What?”

“Oh, I forgot my pen. I can go grab one from my desk.” You started to move, but Spencer, without even looking, reached over you to grab a pen from the cup in front of you.

“No reason. Just use this one.” He dropped it on the pile of papers in front of you and put his hands back on his keyboard, typing up an email or something. The pen was made of some kind of silver metal, probably refillable by the looks of it, and pretty heavy. Definitely expensive. Something like this was entirely too personal for you to be using.

“Reid, it’s okay, I have other pens. This one is just-”

“Just what? Use the pen, it’s fine,” he said, not even turning to look at you. You soon realized why he had asked you to use it. The ink on the inside of the tip had probably dried up from disuse, making it frustrating to write with. One second the pen would write just fine, and the next it wouldn’t. Part of your hand was dedicated to scribbles that you had used to try to restart the pen without making stray marks on your paper. 

This was his revenge for people laughing at him, and it wasn’t even your fault! It was Derek’s! You wouldn’t let him get to you though. You persisted without a sigh or complaint, hoping your endless patience would piss him off even more, despite the fact that it was taking forever to complete. You finished up the paperwork and slid it over to him, catching it on his elbow.

“Here you go. I’m pretty sure I got it all.”

Spencer dragged the papers toward himself and sat in silence for a few moments, taking a different pen and marking small things on the papers that he wanted you to fix. You rolled your eyes when he did, realizing most of it was just petty stuff and that he was just looking for a reason to prove you wrong somehow.

“These are fine. Go ahead and type up the forms online so you can print them again and turn them in.”

… Did he just say type? Your silence prompted him to turn and look at you, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his face. That bastard made you sit in a cramped space with him and told you to do almost 20 pages of paperwork with a broken pen, only to tell you that you could have done it all digitally from your own desk. You clenched your jaw and took a deep breath before snatching your papers and standing up, grabbing your chair when you did so.

“Thanks,” you muttered, dragging your chair behind you as you tried to calm yourself down. Spencer just smiled before turning back to whatever he was doing. 

-

You were at home, digging for something in your purse when you found it. Spencer’s pen. You had grabbed it on accident when you took your papers from him. You were actually familiar with pens like this. Your career advisor in college had a similar one.

He had said, “Make sure you have something that represents you, represents your brand. People know me for my pens. I always have some on hand, but I never let anyone use my nice one. See? It’s even engraved.”

He had bought you one for your graduation, and it sat on your desk at home as a reminder of those days. You knew a little bit about maintenance, enough to know how to disassemble, clean, and reassemble pens like this. Without even thinking about it, you brought the pen to your sink and filled a glass of water before taking it apart, soaking some pieces in the glass while running other pieces under water.

You set them out to dry, and then reassembled the pen in the morning. You tried it out on the stationary on your desk, and unsurprisingly it worked perfectly, much more smoothly than the day before. Before, you could barely write a full word without the ink noticeably running out, but now it was as good as new.

Spencer hadn’t yet arrived when you got to the office that morning. Pulling a post-it note from your desk, you wrote a small message and stuck it on his keyboard next to the pen. You waited for his arrival to note his reaction, to see if he would look at you or say anything. No response whatsoever. Whether or not he cared, at least he couldn’t pull that prank on anybody else.

_Doctor,_

_Thanks for letting me borrow your pen :)_


	7. The Shower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the moment you've all been waiting for. Warning: masturbation.

You weren’t sure who you hated more, Reid or Rossi. You decided on Reid, because you actually really loved David Rossi most of the time. But this time? Not so much.

_Of course_ the team had just happened to go after an unsub that was targeting young, happy couples. _Of course_ you and Reid were the youngest, and the closest in age, so it only made sense that you two be bait. Poor Rossi probably just didn’t pick up the vibes.

Which, honestly, you thought surprising. You and Spencer bickered almost every time you were left alone, and had been interrupted once or twice by Emily and JJ. The second that somebody else appeared, Spencer retreated into his innocent and soft persona, which infuriated you to no end. You seemed to be the only one who knew what an absolute asshole he could be. Any chance he got, he would try to one-up you or purposely sabotage you by doing things like “losing” your paperwork or stealing your seat on the plane. But every single person loved him, so it’s not like you could say anything. 

It's also not like you were innocent in the whole thing either. You would purposely trip him, make jokes at his expense, and even hid some of his things, only to put them back in a place where you know he had already searched a thousand times. The behavior usually de-escalated when the team was out of town on a case, but for some reason Spencer had been absolutely relentless on this trip. 

So when Rossi had suggested that you and Spencer pose as a happy couple, you were mortified. You knew that protesting too much would be a dead giveaway, so you turned to Spencer and raised your eyebrows at him.

“You game?” 

He gulped and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, I think we can pull it off.” 

Everyone turned to Hotch while he started to formulate a game plan for the team to find a way to get the unsub’s attention so that he would come for you and Reid. As much as you wished someone would protest and say it was a bad idea, you knew it wasn’t going to happen. And when Garcia was able to confirm that the unsub was on your trail, you were even more disappointed.

The two of you still had quite some time left to spare for the evening. The unsub usually attacked in the middle of the night, and it was only 5pm, but the both of you were sitting in the living room of a safe house. Part of you was happy that you didn’t have to go around pretending to be in love in public anymore. You weren’t really one to hold hands, and you certainly were not happy to hold Spencer’s hand. His acting was _really_ good though, you had to give him that. He had put his hand on the small of your back when you were in crowded places, leaning down to whisper jokes to you. Sometimes he would even tuck a piece of hair behind your ear or sling his arm around your shoulders. You didn’t know what to do except for laugh and bump him with your hip, sometimes wrapping your arm around his torso to pull him closer to you while you were walking down the street. 

The human contact from Spencer made you almost wistful for a relationship, though. It had been a long time since you had been with someone. Your career and other goals had gotten in the way. You didn’t _need_ someone else to be happy, but it was still a nice thing to have. Sometimes you got lonely and yearned for someone to spend your life with, but you enjoyed the simplicity of not having to build your life around somebody else. Plus, you didn’t really get out much to begin with, so the only new people you met were at work, and you had a strict no-dating policy when it came to coworkers.

Right now, you and Spencer were sitting on opposite ends of the couch. Just waiting. The rest of the team was outside in their cars, watching the place. You were on your phone, and Reid was buried in a book. You were starting to get hungry though, and after a particularly loud stomach growl, he spoke up.

“Do you want to grab us dinner?”

“Yeah, what do you want?”

“Whatever.”

You sighed and turned to him.

“No, I’m asking what you want. You can’t say whatever, because then you’ll just complain about what I choose, and I don’t feel like fighting. So. What do you want?”

He looked up from his book and raised his eyebrows at you.

“Who said we were going to fight?”

“I’m about to start fighting now if you don’t say what you want for dinner.”

“Fine. Can you get burgers or something? I don’t really care where.”

You sighed and grabbed your keys off of the coffee table. It really shouldn’t be this difficult to talk to him. To your surprise he just looked back down at his book, completely ignoring that you were ready to leave.

“Alright, let’s go.”

He looked confusedly up at you.

“No,” he said pointedly. “I asked if _you_ wanted to grab dinner. I didn’t say I was coming with you.”

“Ugh! Whatever. Fine. I’ll just go by myself.” 

You snatched your purse off of the table by the door and texted the team that you were going out for food before hopping in the car and turning the music up loud.

-

Spencer was nowhere to be found when you got back. The house was dead quiet, and you knew the team would have alerted you if something was wrong, but something just didn’t feel right. You set the food and keys down on the table before making your way through the house quietly.

“Spencer?”

Nothing. The closer you got to the master bath, you realized the shower was running. You knocked on the door. 

“Hey Spencer, everything okay?”

No reply. You knocked again this time, louder.

“Spencer?”

No sound from the bathroom still, only the running water. Something was wrong. You tried the knob and it was unlocked, so you opened the door to see if he was okay.

The shower had a glass door, so you saw everything. One of Spencer’s hands was braced against the wall underneath the shower head, holding himself up as he used his other hand to jack himself off. You had immediately looked down at what he was doing and then up at his face at the same time he had realized he wasn’t alone. You made eye contact for a split second before you slammed the bathroom door shut and ran to the living room.

Oh my god.

You couldn’t believe what you had just seen. Oh my god. The words repeated in your head over and over again. Oh no. How were you going to face him after this? You couldn’t get the image out of your head. He actually kind of had a big dick. At least from what you could see. Oh no, why were you thinking about that? You forced yourself to calm down, think about it. The best thing to do would be to pretend it never happened. Right? That’s what most people did, right?

You grabbed the food from the table and turned on the tv, trying to eat but realizing very quickly that you had lost your appetite. After awhile, Spencer came slowly to sit next to you and ate as well, both of you staring at the television wordlessly. The rest of the night passed with no words between you. The unsub had come around 1 in the morning to find the two of you waiting for him and the rest of the team behind him. 

You couldn’t even look Spencer in the eyes on the plane the next day, opting to stare out the window. You tried so hard not to think about it, tried so hard not to think about him. But the more you tried to forget it, the more the memory seemed to be sealed into your brain. The way his wet hair clung to his face and his flushed cheeks, the way he had bitten his lip to keep quiet. God it was making your insides turn just thinking about it. And not necessarily in a bad way.

This is how you knew it had been too long since you’d had sex. You were thinking about a _coworker_. And not just any coworker, but _Spencer_. Ugh, you wished you could just forget it. And yet, that night in bed, safely in your apartment, you snaked your hand down your panties, somewhat thankful that you hadn’t quite forgotten.


	8. Coffee and Water

You had been able to avoid speaking directly to Spencer for an entire week, and he seemed to be on the same page about it with you. Anytime one of you had an idea that the other wanted to elaborate on, you addressed the group. You were even able to avoid eye contact, only looking at him when he was speaking to someone else or the group and not looking at you. The second you thought he was going to turn his head, you averted your gaze. 

Other than that, everything seemed pretty normal. The girls hadn’t asked any questions like they were prone to do, so perhaps they hadn’t caught on. You had been able to avoid him too, purposely waiting for him to get his coffee first so that you wouldn’t be stuck in the kitchen with him, or taking the stairs if you thought he was going to leave the office soon. Alas, your luck wouldn’t last.

The next case that the team traveled for left you alone with Reid in the precinct one night, looking over outdated files across the table from each other, trying to solidify some kind of MO. It was very obvious by just looking at the files how the two of you were staying out of each other’s ways. There was almost a clear dividing line on the table between his stuff and your stuff. Nothing crossed over, not even a paper. He had been fidgeting for awhile, and eventually, for the first time in a week, broke the silence with you.

“Do you want another coffee?”

You looked up at him from the paperwork, and then down at your empty cup. You knew the two of you would be there for awhile, even with his super speed-reading powers, and decided that another coffee probably wasn’t a bad idea. You slid your cup over to his side of the table. 

“Yes, thank you.” 

He nodded and you looked down at your files again, trying to refocus. It wasn’t until he was walking back that you realized you had never told him how you took your coffee. He sat down with his cup and yours, and he watched as you took a cautious sip. It was perfect. You knew he changed his coffee around by what mood he was in, but you were surprised that he paid attention enough to know how you liked yours. You nodded at him to let him know that it was good, and the both of you returned to the files. The coffee felt as if it had served as a kind of peace offering. The tension you felt had mostly subsided, and you sighed lightly, thankful for the reprieve.

“Hey, I think I found something,” you said. You had lined up three files together and highlighted the similarities. Rather than waiting for you to turn the papers around for him, Spencer stood up and walked to your side of the table. He braced his hand on the table next to you as he leaned over you to look over your work. It was no big deal, it really wasn’t, but having him in such close proximity jump started your heart. All you could focus on was how strong his hand looked on that table next to yours, the veins slightly pushing out. The warmth from his body washed over your back, and you could hear his breathing behind you. You knew that if you leaned back, your head would rest on his chest.

What the hell was wrong with you?

You bit your tongue on the inside of your mouth, trying not to show any external reactions to him. Instead of thinking about how it felt to be so close to him, you tried to focus on the words that were coming out of his mouth.

“I think you’re right about this. Let me go call Hotch.”

And then he was gone, leaving you feeling almost cold and slightly shaky from the angst. You decided now would be a great time to go to the restroom and pull yourself together. God, you really needed to get laid. Getting worked up over a damn hand? Ridiculous. But actually, now that you thought about it… the way he had braced himself against that table sure looked and felt an awful lot like last week…

Nope. Not going there. You splashed your face with cold water, hoping that it would subside the swarm of butterflies that erupted in your stomach with that realization. This was so embarrassing, honestly. This surely wasn’t a crush, absolutely not. This was just you being horny. You probably just needed a good night with a random hookup or your vibrator and that would most likely fix the problem. 

You dried up your face and left the bathroom, only to find Spencer standing right outside the door waiting for you.

“Hotch needs us out in the field, lets go.” He handed you the keys to the SUV, which you promptly handed back to him. He looked at you confusedly.

“I drive everywhere,” you said. “It’s your turn.”

“Just because I _can_ drive doesn’t mean I should. Take them back,” he replied, impatiently holding the keys out to you. You balled your fists at your side as a measure of resilience.

“No, I won’t,” you said defiantly. Spencer sighed, and faster than you could react, he grabbed your hand and tried to force your palm open. You gasped and twisted your arm away from him, trying to dislodge yourself from his grasp. He held on tightly, trying to use his other hand to force yours open as you used your free hand to push him away. It honestly was so hilarious to you that he hated driving so much that he was willing to physically fight you to get out of it that you were forced to laugh as he continued to try to pry your fist open. He was stronger than you so he won, but you mostly lost the fight from being out of breath due to laughing so hard.

“Okay, Doctor,” you chuckled, trying to catch your breath. “I’ll drive. But I get to pick the music.”

-

Celebratory drinks were in order. This was your first time going out with the team, and you were excited about it. Hotch and Rossi had stayed for a few rounds and JJ had to go home to Henry, leaving you, Derek, Penelope, Emily, and Spencer sitting at a table. You were only buzzed, not one to get too intoxicated in public, but Emily and Derek were pounding them back like it was a competition. About an hour in, Emily slung her arms around your shoulder and pointed to a man at the bar.

“You see that boy?” she said, leaning in close. “He has been stealing glances at you all night. You know what this means, right?”

Everyone at the table was watching your interaction, now. You laughed nervously and took a sip of your drink.

“No, Emily, I don’t. What does it mean?”

Without warning, Emily grabbed your glass and downed the whole thing before slamming it down on the table with a satisfying clink.

“It means that you need another drink, and I think that he’s buying.”

You blushed lightly, while Derek and Penelope oohed at you and Emily.

“You know, I think she’s onto something,” Derek teased. You looked around the table at everyone, judging how much they were going to press you about this. Your gaze finally landed on Spencer, and something about the look on his face pushed you over the edge.

“You know what, fine, I’ll do it,” you grinned cheekily, standing up from the table as your coworkers gave you drunken words of encouragement. You weren’t usually this brave, but you needed to let your hair down a little, and maybe this man was the perfect remedy for that.

You sauntered over to the bar and leaned in next to him, waiting for the bartender to come over. The man turned to steal a glance at you, and you turned to look him in the eyes as he did. He had this gorgeous dark hair and striking chocolate eyes. You smiled shyly at him before looking away quickly, knowing he was going to fall for it. They always did. He bent down close to your ear so you could hear him above the sounds of the bar.

“Hey, there. My name is Bryan. What are you drinking? I’d love to get you something.”

You looked over at him, a small smirk on your face.

“Hey, Bryan, I’m Y/N. Honestly, I was looking at something else but I think I just found a cool glass of water.”

Where did that come from? You were never so forward. Perhaps you were so brazen because you knew your friends were a few tables away egging you on, and you wanted to show off for them. A look of surprise came over Bryan’s face before he replaced it with a grin.

“Well, then. Did you want to stick around for that water, or go somewhere else for it?”

You beamed at him as butterflies filled your stomach. This never usually happened to you, usually people weren’t interested enough to spare you a second glance. You weren’t one for hookup culture anyways. But here was this attractive man, asking if you wanted to leave with him. Considering the kind of week it had been?

“My place is probably closer,” you said coolly. 

“Well, what are we waiting for, then? Let’s go,” he said, straightening up and placing a hand on the small of your back. “Lead the way.”

You spared a small glance at your coworkers on your way out. Penny was giving you a thumbs up, Derek and Emily pounding on the table and chanting for you. And Spencer? He just looked annoyed.


	9. The Stairwell

Bryan was disappointing, to say the least. He had come after just a few minutes, and the longer his head was between your legs, the more annoyed you became. It didn’t matter how you tried to guide him, he just didn’t get it. So you faked an orgasm and kicked him out, falling onto your bed exasperatedly. Penny and Emily had already texted you for details and you honestly didn’t want to reply. How embarrassing that they had hyped you up, only for you to have a sub-par evening with a man who couldn’t even make you cum. How embarrassing for Bryan. His pretty face could only get him so far.

You had settled for laying on your back in bed, vibrator in one hand while the other ghosted up and down your body. Eventually your hands made it to your folds and you closed your eyes, imagining that Bryan hadn’t fucked up so terribly, and that it was him pleasuring you. The thought didn’t get you far, honestly. It was just so fucking _disappointing_ , you didn’t even want to think about him anymore. You were so horny, and it made it even worse to have someone in your bed who couldn’t do anything for you.

So you laid there panting, fingers slowly pushing into yourself and vibrator on high, just trying to think of something, anything that would help. Your mind was just wandering, and then for some ungodly reason came to that scene of Spencer in the shower. The way the water had dripped down his strong arms, how his breath had come out in little huffs…

Oh no. You knew it was wrong and you tried again and again to think of something else or someone else, maybe a porn you had seen or a book you had read, but your mind just kept coming back to him.

Frustratedly, you withdrew your hands from your legs and turned your vibrator off, throwing it down on to the bed next to you with a groan. You’d rather never orgasm again than think of him while getting yourself off. You were more stubborn than you would have liked to admit, and as long as you and Spencer disliked each other, the more adamant you were that you would never give him the satisfaction. There’s no way that he could find out that you had jerked off to him, but you still couldn’t take that chance. It counted as a victory for him in your head, and you just couldn’t risk giving that kind of power to him.

-

This particular fight had started a few days later when he had elbowed you in the ribs while grabbing his stuff off of the plane. You would have been okay if it was an accident, but he had just turned to look back at you and then faced forward without a word. He was provoking you. You scowled at the back of his head and shoulder checked him hard from behind as you passed to catch up with Emily and JJ. Your shoulder _and_ your ribs hurt now, but it was worth it all the same.

Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he had reached into the small elevator that the girls were using and planted his large hand over a majority of buttons right before the door closed, then following the men into the other elevator. Emily and JJ protested at him as he did so, but all you could think about was the smirk he had given you when he did so. The girls just thought it was a prank and the topic passed quickly as the three of you stopped on almost every floor, but you couldn’t get the look on his face out of your mind. 

“Y/N, what’s going on up there?” JJ broke you from your thoughts. Her and Emily were both staring at you, seeing as you had zoned out staring at the numbers on the elevator buttons. 

“Oh, not much, I’m honestly just really tired. I woke up early and hit the gym this morning before we knew we had a case this morning.”

Emily nodded sympathetically.

“I completely understand, I feel so bad that I have to ask people to watch Sergio on such short notice.”

“I would miss him so much if I were gone a lot,” you said. “I’m sure it’s hard for you too, huh JJ? Leaving your family so much?”

JJ nodded.

“Yeah, it is.”

The rest of the elevator ride was in silence.

-

You were trying so hard to keep your cool the next day. It was like Reid was watching you and almost every time you opened your mouth to speak, he would beat you to it. You could barely get a word in edgewise. He knew you liked to ride shotgun with Morgan, and what did he do? Take your seat in the car, leaving you alone in a silent car with Hotch. The icing on the stupid cake was the dumb elevator ride at the hotel that night.

You had thought everyone had already gone up because you stayed behind at the cars for a moment to gather your stuff and send an email to a colleague back in DC. You hadn’t even seen anyone on your walk to the elevator. You had been so sure that you would be the last one up. But there he came around the corner, right as the elevator doors were closing. You prayed he would be too slow, but nope. His stupid long legs gave him just enough speed to catch his arm in the doors before they closed, leaving you alone with him on a long ride up.

And then, as the elevator started to ascend, he began to crack his knuckles, one by one. He knew how much you hated that noise. Hell, _everyone_ on the team knew how much you hated it. The team was staying on the 20th floor, and he was cracking a knuckle when the numbers changed for each floor that went by. You grit your teeth and stared straight ahead at the numbers as they passed, trying to ignore how deafening the cracks sounded in the otherwise silent elevator. The 10th floor passed and you sighed, thinking he was done. The 11th floor hit.

_Crack._

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, turning to face him. “Could you just cut it out for once?”

He turned to stare straight into your eyes, a deadpan expression on his face. The next floor went by.

_Crack._

You were not usually a physically angry person. You had a tendency to hold your tongue or snap back verbally, but almost never had the urge to lay your hands on someone. Today was not a normal day.

You grabbed Spencer’s left wrist in your right hand and held it between the two of you, looking him in the eyes as you did so.

“I. Said. Stop,” you enunciated in a low voice. Without breaking eye contact, Spencer twisted his arm from you and grabbed your shoulders, pushing you backwards into the wall of the elevator. You could feel the railing on you lower back, and became super aware of how heavy the two of you were now breathing. 

You were shocked. You had known Reid had a darker side, had known that he was so much more than the soft and timid boy that he showed most of the time. But you were almost scared by the fire in his eyes, by how quickly he had switched the script on you. You felt so small and vulnerable right now, looking up at him. He was in control right now, and you both knew it. You froze, not knowing what to do. You couldn’t fight your way out of this one, you knew he was stronger than you. Moments passed. The only indication of the passage of time was the pounding of your heart and the quick breaths the both of you took.

Suddenly the elevator dinged, and as the doors opened he released your shoulders and took a step back, still not breaking eye contact.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, before turning to leave you standing there alone.

-

You sat on your hotel bed with your head in your hands. You must be out of your fucking mind. Your legs were weak and you were wet just _thinking_ about the way that Spencer had looked at you. You knew this was so wrong, and you chalked it up to not getting some with Bryan. You and Spencer didn’t even _like_ each other, and you were out here being horny about some absolute dumb shit. 

You were mad, and it wasn’t just the visceral reaction he had just given you. Today, he had _won_. He had proven that there was almost nothing you could do to stop him. As much as you wanted to fight him until the bitter end, there weren’t any options for you to take. With a lurch in your stomach, you realized you were going to have to confront him, and you didn’t think it could wait until tomorrow. The anxiety would kill you.

You sighed and got up, marching over to his room and knocking as quietly as you could so that the fellow team members wouldn’t hear and question you later. Spencer answered the door promptly, a quizzical look on his face when he realized it was you. 

“We need to talk,” you said. Spencer wordlessly opened the door wider for you to enter, but you shook your head.

“Not here.” You didn’t want the team to hear you in case this turned into a screaming match. He nodded and grabbed his room key before stepping out, gesturing for you to lead the way. There was a stairwell a few hallways over. Nobody ever really takes the stairs, right?

You led him to the concrete stairwell, closing the heavy-duty door behind you. Spencer walked past you and leaned against the grey wall, studying you closely.

“So what is this about?” he said. Your eyes narrowed.

“Don’t play dumb. We can’t keep fighting like this. It’s bad enough that we’re doing this when we’re traveling, what if it starts affecting our case work? We can’t be so unprofessional.”

“You want to talk to me about being unprofessional? Please,” he scoffed. “From the very beginning, before you ever joined the profiling unit, you have been rude to me for no reason. Don’t get upset that you can’t finish what you started.”

“Hey! I tried to make amends but you ignored me! What was I supposed to do, just roll over and let you treat me like that? Absolutely not. You’re just mad that everybody likes you except for me.”

“Oh really?” Spencer quirked and eyebrow and stepped towards you. You took a step back as he did, and he looked you up and down before stepping closer to you again. You took another step back.

“You want to know what I think, Y/N? I think-” One step forward, another step back.

“-that you-” One more step forward and then your back was against the wall. You were cornered.

-really, really like me.”

You frowned up at him, shocked.

“Don’t make this about yourself, Reid. It has never been about you.”

“No? It’s not about me? Tell me that you don’t think about me then. Tell me you don’t spend your free time thinking of ways to get back at me.”

He bent down so that his face was right in front of yours.

“Tell me that you don’t think about me at night when you’re alone in bed.”

You opened and closed your mouth, a blush slowly creeping across your skin. Where the hell did this come from?

“I- I don’t,” you sputtered, taken aback.

“You don’t?” he said in a mock disappointed voice. “What if I said I thought about you? What would you say then?”

“I-” it was getting hard to think, he was too close to you. The unceasing eye contact and the smirk on his face were just too much. No coherent sentences were forming in your mind. You could barely process the words coming out of his mouth.

“Stop,” you whispered desperately, clenching and unclenching your fists. Your brain couldn’t take it.

“Do you want me to stop because I’m wrong, or because you know I’m right?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to think, but his breath on your skin and the smell of his deodorant were so distracting. With a satisfied chuckle, you heard him move away and you opened your eyes to find him standing a step back.

“We both know that anytime someone gets close to you, you put up these walls so that nobody can get in. That’s why you don’t like me. You don’t like that I can see through them, unlike everybody else. So, go ahead.” He gestured to the stairwell door. 

“Leave. And then come back tomorrow and treat me just as badly as you have been, or better yet, just avoid me. Prove me right. Or you can stay, and show me who you really are.”

You didn’t even need to think twice. You bolted away from him without looking back.


	10. "I'm right here"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: blood

You were a fucking coward. Reid was right, and you both knew it.

You hadn’t had a significant other in years. You didn’t have friends or family that you spent a lot of time with. You were alone because of your emotional unavailability. You felt vulnerable at times, but that didn’t really count in the grand scheme of things. And just like you couldn’t confront others, you couldn’t even confront yourself.

It wasn’t that you weren’t a desirable romantic option; it’s that you never gave anyone the chance to even look at you. It wasn’t that you weren’t a good friend; it’s that you never let anyone get close enough to figure that out. You were stuck in the complacency of your everyday life. So when Spencer decided to shatter your complacency, it excited you because it gave you something to think about, something to look forward to.

Now you were stuck, not sure of what to do. The two of you had been playing games, but it got too real and now you didn’t know what to do. You could bow out and continue to be complacent, or play into his hands and change. It was a terrifying choice, one that you weren’t ready to make. You were ashamed of how you decided to just go about your business and pretend that nothing had happened. 

The case went on as usual. The unsub had barred himself inside of an abandoned warehouse, or at least the team thought he did. You all sped there in the fleet of SUVs, hoping to catch him before he had time to terrorize anyone else. The maze-like structure had the team splitting up into small groups, quietly navigating the building so as not to raise alarm. Eventually it was just you and Spencer. A fork in the hallway led to two entrances of a main room; one door on the left and the other on the right. You and Spencer would have to split up. Running on pure adrenaline, the two of you looked at each other and nodded silently before going your separate ways.

The large room was mostly empty. The big machinery had been cleared out. It was just a windowless, concrete room illuminated by outdated electric lights. You stepped forward into the room and looked around for any sight of movement. You heard Spencer on your right and turned to ask if he saw anything. Except the person standing there wasn’t Spencer.  


You yelped in fear, recognizing the face of the unsub, Daniel. You knew that you could probably de-escalate the situation, except that he had a knife in his hand. You backed up and opened your mouth to speak. Before you got the chance, he dashed to you so fast that you could barely react. You gripped your gun and prepared to shoot, but he knocked the gun from your hands and grabbed at your hair, throwing you into the nearby wall head first. Dazed, you fell to the ground, waiting for the next hit that never came. The world spun and you couldn’t see anything but stars, feeling nauseous.

When you could finally focus, you almost screamed. Spencer was on his back, Daniel on top of him. Daniel held his forearm over Spencer’s neck, crushing his windpipe. Spencer had taken quite a few punches, his face and mouth bloody. He was fighting Daniel pretty well, but you knew he wouldn’t last long if he couldn’t breathe. Your training kicked in and you lunged towards Spencer’s gun on the ground in front of you. His must have gotten knocked out of his hands too.

You struggled to your feet and took the shot.

-

Spencer’s POV

_Bang._

Headshot. Daniel slumped down almost immediately, and Spencer rolled to the side so as not to be crushed by the now dead weight. He turned to see you standing above him about 15 feet away holding his gun, looking shocked and breathing shallowly. He watched as shock turned to confusion on your face as you slowly reached down to your torso. You were wearing all black so Spencer didn’t see it until you drew your hand away. 

Your hand was covered in blood. Horrified, Spencer locked eyes with you and could see your eyes were full of fear. He scrambled up to get to you right as you fell to your knees. 

“Hey, hey it’s okay! I’ve got you,” he said shakily, falling to his knees beside you. He pressed the button for his earpiece, frantically asking the team for help before focusing back on you. 

“I’m going to need you to lay down, okay? Just to make sure you’re safe, alright?” You nodded and he guided you down, resting your head on the concrete as lightly as he could. 

“I’m going to apply pressure on the wound. It’s going to hurt.” He untucked your shirt and pulled it up as far as he could with the vest you were wearing. Oh god, there was a lot of blood. It looked like there were only two stab wounds relatively close to each other. He took a deep breath and pressed his shaking hands as hard as he could into your side to try to stop the bleeding. You cried out and he looked down at your face, watching the tears form in your eyes as you grabbed at his wrists.

“Spencer, it hurts!”

It was so heartbreaking to hear the pain in your voice. God, where was the team? They must have heard the gunshots and they had replied to his call for help over the headset but they still weren’t here yet. He was starting to panic.

“Yes, I know. It’s going to be alright. Everything is gonna be okay, I’m right here for you.” Your grip loosened on his wrists as your eyelids started to flutter. Oh no. 

“Y/N, look at me, okay? Look at me, I’m right here. I need you to hold on for me, okay? Can you try to stay awake for me? Let’s talk about something. Tell me about that new album you were listening to on the plane.”

“It hurts,” you whispered. Spencer’s hands were slippery from the blood, and it was such an awkward position that he had to keep rearranging his hands to keep your wounds closed. He could hear the team running towards you in the distance. Just a little bit longer.

“Yes, I know. I know. They’re almost here, you’re going to be alright. Just hang on, I’ve got you.”

Your eyes started to become unfocused and as much as Spencer tried to grab your attention, it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t do anything but watch as you drifted into unconsciousness.

-

Thankfully, the paramedics had the supplies to patch you up, but only temporarily. They still needed to rush you to the hospital, and Spencer thought it was only right that he rode in the ambulance with you. The team had protested, insisting that he stay back and get treated for his own injuries, but he waved them away. The cuts were superficial, and the paramedics could handle it on the way to the hospital.

The ride over was agonizing to say the least. The ambulance wasn’t moving fast enough, even with the sirens. The good news is that most of your external bleeding had stopped, and you were drifting in and out of consciousness. The bad news was that every time you were out, all he could do was stare at the bloodstains on the knees of his pants and your blood under his fingernails.

Your eyes started to open again and he leaned forward so that you would see a familiar face. The first few times you had come back into consciousness you had struggled in fear and bled harder.

“Hey, I’m right here.” 

Your eyes fixated on him and he tried so hard to smile for you, trying to convince you that you were going to be okay. He was sure it looked more like a grimace. He saw that you were trying to move and gently set his hand on your shoulder.

“Stay still. We’re almost there.” He had no idea how much longer this ride would take. 

Despite his protests, you brought your hand up to caress the side of his face, your thumb resting lightly on the cut he had received right below his eye. He felt your finger gently trace the dried blood there, and then you concernedly met his gaze.

“Does it hurt?”

He had to laugh. You were bleeding out in an ambulance from multiple stab wounds, and you were asking him if _he_ was okay. 

“No, not at all,” he said. He saw that your eyes were starting to close again and gently guided your hand back down to your side. “Just rest for a moment, okay? I’m right here.”


	11. Remembering

They never tell you in tv shows how sometimes patients in the hospital, without warning, just wake up. There is no hearing the voices of your family and friends around you or slowly opening your eyes to see the bright lights. One second you were unconscious, and the next your eyes snapped open and you were awake. 

You didn’t know where you were. It was just a plain room. Your first thought was to panic and get out of bed to try to assess the situation, figure out what was going on. It hurt to even breathe, as if your expanding lungs were too big for your chest. You tried to turn on your left side to sit up, and a flare of pain went through the opposite side of your body. You gasped.

“Whoa whoa whoa! Don’t get up!” 

You froze and looked towards the door. Spencer rushed in and set a cup of whatever in his hand down on the table beside you before leaning over you, hands hovering over your body as if trying to decide if he should touch you or not. He had a butterfly bandage below one eye, and little cuts and bruises on other parts of his face. The generic room, the paper cup, the bandages… you were in a hospital.

“You need to lay back down, you can’t be up right now.”

You looked up at him in confusion. You knew that any movement, even breathing, would cause you pain. That much was clear. What else did he know that you didn’t? What had happened?

“Here, let me just… we’re gonna guide you back down, okay?” You nodded cautiously and he placed his hand lightly on your right hip, on the side that was in pain.

“Just lean back down in 3… 2… 1…”

You let out a whimper of pain as he helped you back down onto the mattress. You grit your teeth, trying not to show any weakness even as tears pricked your eyes. You couldn’t describe it other than this sharp pain that radiated from your very core, near your belly button. You were breathing heavily, trying not to cry as he pulled his warm hands away from your skin.

“Spencer, what… what happened?” Your voice broke as you spoke. God, it hurt so bad.

“Here, let me get the doctor. I think you need more painkillers.” You reached out to grab at his wrist as he pressed the call light, only realizing then that there were tubes stuck into your arm. 

“Please.”

He looked back at you, brows furrowed and biting his lip the way he did when he was trying really hard to think. After looking at you for a moment, he finally spoke.

“What do you last remember?” he asked.

You frowned and tried to think back. It was all really, really fuzzy. The pain kept distracting you, keeping you in the present rather than the past.

“Hey.”

You looked up at Spencer. He sat down and took your hand in both of his.

“Close your eyes and just try to go back to the last thing that’s clear in your head.”

You nodded and closed your eyes, focusing on how his strong hands held yours, trying to remember.

“The team… we were going to the… warehouse? And we were looking at maps in the car.”

“Yes,” he coaxed. You opened your eyes and he shook his head at you. “Close your eyes. Think a little bit more.”

“We went in and… we all split up. And then it was me and you. I went through the door and I heard you but it wasn’t you and-”

“And?”

“And then it goes black,” you whispered. You were scared, alone in that darkness. What had really happened? Did you get shot? What had happened to Spencer? You opened your eyes to look at him. Was that… pity? It honestly made you kinda mad. You weren’t a _victim_ , you had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Occupational hazard.

Just then, the nurse burst in. You and Spencer jumped, ripping your hands away from each other.

“Great to see you’re awake!” the nurse exclaimed. Spencer turned to look at him.

“Her cognitive function seems to be fine. Just some retrograde amnesia.”

The nurse looked confusedly at Reid and then back at you.

“And how’s your pain level? Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah, I’m definitely fine,” you said nonchalantly. Definitely fine if you didn’t move. Or breathe.

“She almost cried from the pain a few minutes ago.”

You shot a glare at him. Traitor. You had a high pain tolerance; you could get used to it. You preferred not to take medicine if you didn’t have to. Mama didn’t raise no bitch. Spencer raised his eyebrows at you as if to say “so what?”

The nurse came and fiddled around with your IV before stepping back.

“This should help. It’ll do you well to sleep a little bit longer. Let us know when she wakes up again.”

Spencer nodded at the nurse as he left, only to turn and see the incredulous look you were giving him.

“I do not need to be _sedated_ , Spencer.” You were starting to feel tired already. Spencer chuckled, leaning in to smirk at you right as you were closing your eyes.

“Actually, it’s Doctor.”

-

Surprisingly, you weren’t in the hospital for very long. Non-fatal stab wounds aside, your internal bleeding had been minimal and you only had a mild concussion. You just had to go back to a hospital to get the stitches out later. 

Derek was driving the both of you to the jet. You found it surprising that he had volunteered so quickly. The more you thought about it, you realized that Derek had trained you in the field. Perhaps he felt responsible for you getting hurt.

“Thanks again for driving me,” you said from the passenger seat. Derek looked over and smiled at you.

“It’s really no problem, girl. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

It was quiet for a moment before you decided to finally ask.

“Derek, what actually happened? All I heard was that I got stabbed. Nobody else will tell me the whole story but I think I deserve to know what happened, considering I almost died.”

Derek sighed.

“I figured you would ask again. You really don’t remember anything after you and Spencer split up?”

“Nothing at all.”

Derek paused.

“With traumatic events like this, with retrograde amnesia, many times the memories will come back later. I think the team just doesn’t want to give you memories that aren’t how you remember them.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to tell me, to prepare me so that I know what happened? So that I can process it correctly once I see it?”

“The thing is,” Derek started, “none of us were there. Only Reid. We only know what he told us.”

“What did he say?”

There was a long moment of silence as if Derek was formulating and editing what he wanted to say. You had almost given up on learning the truth when he spoke.

“Spencer said that right when he got there, Daniel rushed him. You were already down on the floor. Reid said he was going to lose the fight, but that you shot the unsub and then collapsed. When we found him, he was pressing your wound so that you wouldn’t bleed out. He rode with you in the ambulance to the hospital. That’s all I know.”

“So… he saved my life.”

Derek nodded solemnly.

“And you saved his.”

Oh. No wonder. In the hospital, everyone had come to spend time with you but it seemed like Spencer was always… around. Always just around the corner, or just outside the door, the first one in and usually the last one out for the day. You didn’t get it, honestly, but it made sense now.

But his debt had been repaid, hadn’t it? Things could go back to normal now, he could go on disliking you or whatever. Actually, on the subject of that. You had been so immersed in yourself and how you felt after the encounter with him in the stairwell, you only just now remembered something Spencer had said that night.

_What if I said I thought about you?_

-

It only took about three weeks for the nightmares to start. Your psychological evaluation came back okay and you had been cleared to fly but not go out in the field, so the team had tried to stay in the city as long as they possibly could for you. But eventually the time came to leave, and you were stuck at the precinct or the hotel. 

The nightmares came about halfway through the case. You would wake up in a cold sweat, sometimes hyperventilating. You ended up sobbing most of the time. You were almost afraid to sleep because you knew you would go back there, to the warehouse.

You don’t remember a lot. It was mostly in flashes. You remembered seeing Spencer’s gun on the ground in front of you, you remember looking down and seeing blood on your hands. You remember laying on the floor and watching Spencer frantically speak into the earpiece everyone shared, calling for help with panic on his face. Except it sounded like he was yelling at you through water, like he wasn’t actually there next to you. 

The flashbacks weren’t what was so terrifying. What made it so horrible was the heart-stopping and overwhelming fear that you felt. It was paralyzing. Living though the memories again made you feel powerless, because all you could do was lay there and live parts of it over and over and over again. You had zero control, so you just had to keep watching it happen.

You wished you could say that the first night was the worst. It wasn’t. At least before the dreams had happened, you had no idea what was coming. You didn’t live your life dreading when the sun went down, when your inevitable exhaustion would come. And boy, were you exhausted. You were sleeping _maybe_ a handful of hours a night, if that. The entire team had started to notice your lack of energy and frequent yawning, as well as the increase in caffeine consumption.

That was almost as bad as the dream themselves. The entire team _knew_ what was happening. Hotel walls are usually extremely thin, you were sure at least one or two of them had heard you crying or pacing after a particularly nasty dream. You also realized why they had treated you like you were so fragile before the dreams happened. They had been waiting for it to happen because they knew it was inevitable. 

After the fifth night of barely any sleep, Hotch had asked you to step aside to speak to him to make sure you were alright to continue the case. You knew everyone else on the team was watching you talk to him, and it made you angry that there was nothing about your life that was private to them. But you couldn’t be mad at them for caring for you, and wondering if your job performance was affected by this. Except your performance at work was fine. You definitely were a bit more irritable and stressed out more easily, but you could manage it. 

That wasn’t even the most embarrassing part. You had a nightmare on the jet on the flight home. It was after midnight and something about the lulling machine had made you sleepy. You woke up with a start, breathing heavily and trying to catch your bearings only to find that Aaron, Spencer, and David were all looking at you concernedly. They looked away quickly when they realized you had awoken. You went to the restroom before the tears started rolling down your face.

What had they seen? You knew that you sometimes would sleep talk. Did you say something? Nobody had woken you up. Maybe they didn’t know until it was too late? Maybe-

Somebody knocked on the door.

You wiped your tears before opening it to see David standing there.

“Hey, kiddo. You doing alright?”

The gentleness of his words sent you crashing down. You opened your mouth to speak but the tears came even faster now before you could get a grip on them. So you shook your head as David took you into his arms, whispering comforting things in your ears as he rubbed your back soothingly. You buried your face into his shoulder and sobbed, gripping his suit jacket for some kind of stability, something to keep you grounded. 

Eventually you cried yourself out. Your eyes were puffy and David’s poor suit jacket had tear stains on it. After you had calmed down, the both of you looked at the stains and laughed a little.

“Thanks, David,” you sniffled. Your nose was always runny when you cried. “I’m gonna be okay.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. You shook your head.

“Not yet.”

He nodded understandingly before placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“You know all of us are here for you. Just let us know.” 

He left so you could clean yourself up and return to your seat. You only had an hour until you landed, so you just stared out at the darkness beyond the jet windows until it was time to go home.


	12. Sleep

The second you had stepped through your apartment door at 3:30 in the morning, you realized you couldn’t be there. It’s not that it wasn’t a safe space for you, it’s that it was a solitary space. Nobody came over, nobody visited. You were going to be alone for the next 28 hours and you couldn’t do it. 

Having Rossi comfort you after your nightmare had been so nice, and now you couldn’t imagine _not_ having that. You were scared to be by yourself. Who was going to pick up the pieces when you eventually fell apart? You were just so tired. You couldn’t do it.

You grabbed your keys and went right back to your car. Derek had spoken to you briefly in the car ride about what the nightmares could be. Everyone had them, he said. He had helped Reid through his a few years ago.

And with that thought you turned the key in your ignition and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, can I… come over? I’m sorry if it’s too much, I know we just got back. I just… don’t know if I can be alone.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll stay up for you.”

-

You got there in less than half an hour. You never realized how close the two of you lived to each other. You ascended the stairs and knocked on the door hesitantly.

Spencer answered almost immediately. Had he been waiting by the door for you? 

“Hey,” he said awkwardly. His voice was deeper than normal, probably from lack of sleep. The bags under his eyes confirmed your thoughts. You were pretty sure he almost never slept on the plane.

“Hey,” you said sheepishly.

He opened the door wider for you and gestured for you to come in. You stepped in and stood there for a moment, taking it in. No wonder he smelled like old books; they were everywhere in here. It smelled just like an old library, something that you absolutely loved. 

“You can come sit down if you want.” 

He sat down on the couch and you followed suit, sitting on opposite ends from each other. It was not unlike that one evening in the safe house, except this time you were curled up with your knees to your chest facing him, and there were no distractions. You looked around the room, pretty much everywhere but at him, until he cleared his throat to speak. 

“So… what’s going on?”

This was embarrassing. The sleep deprivation had made it seem like a good idea at the time, but now that you were here? Maybe not. 

Almost a month ago, you and Spencer had fought and you swore you hated him. Then, after you got hurt days later, the two of you just steered clear of each other. No games. You barely spoke to each other, and if you did it was only during team discussions. Now that you thought about it, you hadn’t had a real conversation with him since the hospital, and you had literally saved each other’s lives. 

Perhaps that’s why you trusted him. You were alive because of him. Or maybe it was because the two of you had similar personalities. But right now, you were here. You had chosen to be here, for whatever reason, and now you had to explain that to someone you thought you hated a month ago.

“You know I’ve been having nightmares. I mean everyone knows. But Derek said he had helped you, and I… I’m not like everyone else. I’m not strong like Aaron or JJ or Emily. And it’s not that I don’t trust them, I just…”

“You don’t feel like they’ll take it as seriously because you don’t think they have the same problem.”

You nodded. 

“Yeah. And I-” you paused, finally looking into his sincere eyes. “-I just thought that you could help me. I couldn’t be in my place alone, I just can’t do it.”

“I understand. I um… I have nightmares too. Like, about that day I mean.”

Oh.

Before you could reply he continued, looking away from you and wringing his hands together as he spoke.

“I don’t think you realize how hard it is to… be involved in something like that. We see the pictures and save lives out in the field every day but this time it was you, someone I know, and…”

He swallowed nervously.

“I had to throw my pants away because they were stained so badly. It took me days to get your blood out from underneath my fingernails. I had to walk around with your literal blood on my hands _for days_. It was even on my gun, and it still feels like no matter how many times I clean it, I just pick it up and it’s like your blood is in there, just living in it. I-”

He paused seeing the look of horror on your face, rushing to get the next words out.

“It’s not your fault! I’m not upset at you at all, you saved my life. But it’s hard to sleep because I keep thinking of what your open skin felt like underneath my hands, and when you closed your eyes, I thought you wouldn’t wake up. I thought you had died. And I couldn’t-”

He choked and ran his fingers through his hair, looking away from you ashamedly.

“I couldn’t live with myself thinking that you died in my arms. The team, we’re supposed to take care of each other, and I wasn’t there for you.”

Oh my god.

“Spencer, have you… have you told anyone else about this?”

He shook his head, looking down at his lap to hide his face with his hair. If you knew him any better, you would think he was fighting off tears. You reached forward and gently placed your hand on his forearm.

“I'm sorry that you’ve been going through this alone. You don’t deserve that. I don’t even remember what happened. I can’t imagine what it would be like if I couldn’t forget.”

The two of you sat in silence as he composed himself. You weren’t sure if you should still be touching him but decided that he would shrug you off if he was uncomfortable. Eventually, he raised his head to look at you. As you had suspected, his eyes were red-rimmed as if he had been fighting off tears. 

“Sorry.” He sniffled. “I know you came here for my help. Your nightmares are about what happened, so what do you remember?”

“Honestly, I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it yet,” you said nervously. “I’m sorry if I’m wasting your time here by not being ready. There are still blank spots in my head. I just wanted to be around someone who understood. I’m exhausted, but I’m scared of when I wake up. I don’t know if I can be alone.”

“You know sleeping with someone actually increases hormones like oxytocin and serotonin, and can decrease general anxiety.”

You looked at him blankly. Was he implying…?

“I’m just saying it would be beneficial for us to sleep next to each other. Here.”

He pulled the afghan blanket off of the back of the couch and wrapped it around your shoulders. You hesitated, not sure what to do. Was he comfortable with this? Were _you_ comfortable with this?

You decided you were. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, anyways.

You curled up next to Spencer and laid your head in his lap. You turned on your back to look up at him.

“Is this okay?” you asked. He nodded, smiling softly down at you. You turned onto your side facing outward so that the back of your head rested lightly on Spencer’s stomach. The two of you were there in silence for a moment before you felt his hand on the top of your head, brushing his thumb lightly over your temple. 

It was super soothing, and you found yourself drifting off to sleep more quickly than you thought you would. You sighed contentedly.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” you whispered.

“Goodnight,” he whispered back. You swore you could hear the ghost of a smile on his lips.

-

The world was quiet when you finally awoke. The sun streamed through cracks in the curtains, and you could see dust motes lazily drifting about in the light. You laid there peacefully, not even realizing until a few moments later that you hadn’t had a nightmare. This was the best sleep you had gotten in at least a week. You turned over on your back to look at Spencer with a smile on your face, only to find him still asleep. 

His head was nestled into his shoulder, one arm slung across the back of the couch while the other lay on his knee right next to the top of your head. He looked so radiant. Light stubble had appeared along his jaw, and the chronic circles under his eyes didn’t seem so dark now in the morning light.

You wanted to wake him up, but there was something so mesmerizing about the way his messy hair fell into his face and the way his chest rose and fell in even, measured breaths. There was something so domestic about this scene, something private. It made you feel almost guilty, as if you didn’t deserve to see this side of him. Rather than ruin the moment, you decided to close your eyes. Perhaps you would fall back asleep. 

Sure enough, you were awoken by the sound of Spencer’s yawning, and the feeling of his body stretching underneath yours. You blinked awake to find him looking down at you sleepily.

“Hi,” you said shyly.

“Hello,” he replied. His voice was wayyyy deeper in the mornings. He brushed your hair out of your face.

“Would you like some coffee?”

You nodded.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

You sat up briefly so he could stand, and then flopped back down on the couch. He looked back at you for a moment, and you could have sworn he smiled. He moved out of your eyeline, and you could hear him banging around in the kitchen.

It was in this moment that you started to get a little anxious. How long were you going to stay here? He was making you coffee, so it seemed like he wanted you to stick around. Your thoughts were further punctuated by his next statement.

“If you want, you’re free to use my shower.”

You sat up to look at him over the back of the couch. Realizing you were up, he shrugged at you. 

“Yeah, sure,” you conceded. You felt really gross anyways. Traveling always did that to you.

“There’s nothing in the guest restroom so you can use mine. It’s through that door on the right. There are extra towels in the closet in there.”

“Okay, thanks.”

You shrugged off the blanket and stood up, feeling wobbly. Without a second thought, you meandered to the shower. You didn’t realize you were going to have to pass through Spencer’s room until you were already there. 

Light streamed in through the sheer curtains. A four-poster bed took up most of the room, a dark red comforter adorning it. There was a cheval mirror in the corner, next to the door you assumed to be his closet. You wanted to stay a little longer to figure out the doctor's personal taste, but you felt like you were prying. So you kept going, turning to the side to enter his bathroom and closing the door behind you. 

It was neat, everything clean and organized as you had assumed it would be. You started the water and undressed, folding your clothes in a small pile and taking a moment to look at yourself in the mirror as the water warmed up. The dark spots under your eyes had slightly faded, and most of the puffiness was gone. Your hair was an absolute mess, and the little bit of eye makeup you had worn yesterday was smudged. Not enough to look bad, but enough for you to notice.

You looked at your scar in the mirror. You tried not to most of the time. It felt like it wasn’t really part of you, like when you get a new tattoo or piercing that you don’t regularly see and you forget about it. You traced the bright pink lines lightly with your fingers. The pain had mostly subsided. 

It was hard to believe that two little lines like that had almost killed you. You couldn’t even remember what had happened. You weren’t one to be vain, having your fair share of body issues and insecurities, but it made you sad to think that someone would touch you one day and they would ask. Having to talk about a near-death experience right before sex seemed like one hell of a turnoff. 

You sighed and pulled back the shower curtain, stepping into the hot water. It felt _so_ nice. You would never admit it to him, but you loved the smell of Spencer’s soaps. They were mostly mint based, the right combination of sharp without being overpowering. 

You were drying off when you remembered you hadn’t brought your go bad up with you. It was still in your car, and you couldn’t wear your old clothes. They were too gross. But you couldn’t exactly walk down to your car in only a towel, either. You already started to blush thinking about how you were going to have to face Spencer half-naked and ask him to grab your stuff for you.

Except when you stepped into his bedroom, you saw that he had closed the door and set some of his clothes on the bed for you. Oversized sweats and a big t-shirt. That was actually… really thoughtful. You got dressed and hung the towel up on the rack in his bathroom to dry and checked yourself in the mirror before you went back out. You knew how you looked didn’t matter, it was _Spencer_ after all, but you couldn’t help it. You looked calm, relaxed. It had been quite awhile since you felt that way. 

You went to the kitchen. Spencer hadn’t just made coffee; he had made breakfast. Simple eggs and toast and fruit. You smiled surprisedly at him. 

“Thanks so much!” 

He nodded back at you. 

“Of course.”

The two of you sat and ate breakfast in comfortable silence before Spencer excused himself to take a shower. While he was gone, you went to go lay back down on the couch. Suddenly, you were waking up from your nap. You could tell it was later in the afternoon by the color and the direction of the light was shining through the curtains. 

Spencer was sitting across from you in an armchair, reading a book. He looked over at you when he heard you stirring.

“Sleep alright?”

You nodded and stretched, yawning as you did so. You realized that while you were sleeping, he had covered you in a blanket again. He went back to his book and you laid there, contemplating your next move. You had enjoyed your time here, but you were afraid you had overstayed your welcome. Surely Spencer had other things he had wanted to do on his day off. Not only that, but as nice as this had been, you weren’t really sure where you stood with him. You were in this strange in-between place of dislike and friendship, if you could even call it friendship. Maybe mutual respect was a better word. 

Eventually, you sat up. You needed to go home and do laundry, get ready for tomorrow. And as fun as it was to play house like this, it wasn’t real.

“I’m gonna go,” you stated, standing up off of the couch. Spencer looked back up at you.

“Okay. You can keep the clothes for now. I don’t really wear them often.”

“Alright.”

You put on your shoes and gathered your things. Spencer walked you to the door.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said. It sounded more like a question.

“No, I actually have a few lectures for a college class downtown tomorrow. I’ll be back the day after that, though.”

“Oh, okay.”

This was agonizingly awkward.

“I’ll see you then. Um… thanks. For letting me stay, I mean.”

Spencer nodded at you, his face blank.

“Anytime. I’ll see you later.”

That was your cue.

“Okay. Bye”

“Bye.”

You turned and walked down the stairs, hearing his door close behind you. You couldn’t stop thinking about him the rest of the day, partly because you were still wearing his clothes and they smelled like him. You knocked out some paperwork, ate dinner, and got ready for bed that night, putting on your own clothes and folding his to set them on your dresser. You didn’t get any laundry done today, but you would wash them soon so you could return them. That way it would feel like you didn’t owe him any more favors.


	13. Pretty

It seemed like everyone was walking on eggshells around you. What was even worse is that you were almost 100% sure that Emily had told Penny what was going on because every hour or two she would emerge from her cave to check on you. Which was super nice, of course, if you didn’t have work to do.

She invited you to have lunch with her in her office, and you figured it would be a great time to discuss it. You had been feeling very isolated recently anyways, and you knew some girl time wouldn’t hurt. When you got to her office, you saw that she had gotten your favorite order from the taco place a few streets down. So that’s how bad she thought it was.

“Alright, give it to me straight,” you said, plopping down in her spare office chair. “How much did Emily tell you?”

Penny started, and you knew you had gotten her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said shortly. You chuckled lightly at her attempt to lie. She was always bad at that.

“Pen, I’m really not mad. I promise. I know everyone is worried, but it’s okay. I just want to know what Emily said. And after this, I give you my full permission to tell them whatever I say.”

“Well… she said that they were worried. JJ heard you crying at night in your room. And she said that you had a nightmare on the plane and that they saw it.”

Oof. You thought most of them had been asleep for that.

“That’s true,” you replied. “I started remembering some stuff, having some nightmares. I can’t really piece it together yet. But I’m okay. I’ve had a few good nights of rest at home so it’s been pretty okay. I mean there’s still more to work through but it’ll be fine. Are you happy with my responses?”

Penny nodded.

“Okay,” you smiled. “Let’s eat.”

-

Spencer was mad, and you didn’t know why. Actually, the more correct phrase was that he was mad at _you_. You tried to smile at him as he entered the office and he wouldn’t even spare a glance your way. You were making coffee in the kitchen when he walked in, and as you made eye contact with him, he instantly turned around and left. What was his problem? Was this about not getting his clothes back to him? He had said it was fine. 

The end of the day came and you caught him in the elevator. The two of you and elevators never seemed to mix well, but you figured you’d rather face the problem now rather than later. The anxiety was going to kill you otherwise. You smiled at him as you walked in, even though he just spared you a blank look. Turns out, you wouldn’t even have to ask him why he was upset; the second the elevator doors closed he started in on you.

“Are you embarrassed of me?” he asked angrily, turning to face you.

You were taken aback.

“Uh, what? Why would you think-”

“Because Penny told me that all you did was sit at home on your day off. Is there a reason you didn’t want her to know?”

Was he actually serious right now?

“You’re joking, right?” you asked. Your temper was starting to flare. You started to speak but he cut you off.

“Do I look like I’m joking? Are you really that ashamed of me? I mean I know you hated me at one point but I didn’t think you hated me so much as to-”

“Well, I’m _sorry_ , Spencer. I didn’t want to broadcast to everyone we know that I showed up to your doorstep crying. Do you think I enjoy that kind of attention? Did you want me to explain to Penelope what you told me about your dreams? You want them to know you’re having problems, too? I was trying to protect you. And-”

“You really are so-”

“Let me finish!” you exclaimed exasperatedly. “How was I supposed to know that you wanted everyone to know about how I slept on your couch? Is the chip on your shoulder so bad that you think you have something to prove? What, you want everyone to think you fucked the new girl? I slept over once because I was feeling vulnerable and I thought you could help. It wasn’t a big deal, but you’re blowing it up into something it isn’t. Stop being so self-centered. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, it is _not_ all about you.”

The two of you glared at each other in silence until the elevator reached the bottom floor.

“You know what, Y/N, I’m sorry that my friendship is so insignificant to you.”

The turned on his heels and stalked off to the metro. You went in the opposite direction to the car garage. Was that what this was about? He was mad that you weren’t telling anyone and everyone about how you guys had spent a day together? Did he really think of the two of you as friends? There had only been a few times that you had actually truly gotten along, was that grounds to a friendship if you’d been fighting every other second of the day?

As much as you felt for him, you were also still angry. What was the point of him getting mad at you? How entitled did he have to be to think he could somehow have a claim over you or your time or your friendship? You kept a very private life and he should have been honored to even be considered to be part of it. Instead, he was acting as if it suddenly belonged to him. 

Ugh!

You slammed your car door harder than you needed to. Just when you thought that the dumb feud was over, he had to go and start it all over again! He had accused you of being the instigator, but here he was, acting a fucking fool. 

-

You had another nightmare that night, the first you’d had in a few days. You sat up in bed in a cold sweat, breathing heavily and fighting back tears. Not again. You knew it was only a matter of time before they came back, but you hadn’t expected it to be so soon. 

You tried to compose yourself in the bathroom, splashing water on your face. When you went to lay back down, the bad feelings threatened to overwhelm you. You felt alone. You glanced around the room, wondering if something, anything would help. Your eyes landed on your dresser. You were alone physically, but maybe if you replicated the feeling of being with someone else, it would help? 

This was almost shameful. You stripped out of your clothes and then grabbed Reid’s clothes from your dresser. Yep. They still smelled like him. You put them on and then climbed back under the covers. You could already feel yourself starting to drift back to sleep.

-

It had been too long since the team had gone out for drinks. For some reason, you thought that you could keep up with Emily and Derek this time even though you knew you didn’t drink half as much as they did. Or perhaps, you thought as you took your 5th shot of the night, it was an unhealthy coping mechanism. In the long run it wasn’t great for you, but you knew that you wouldn’t have to worry about anything if you were wasted. Even with Spencer there, you were determined to have a good time.

-

Spencer’s POV

Spencer was chatting with JJ most of the night and only had a few beers. After she left to go home, Derek followed soon after. Now it was just you, Emily, and Spencer. It had become very clear over the course of the night that you couldn’t keep up with Emily and Derek no matter how hard you tried. Spencer had watched as the three of you agreed to go shot for shot, but no matter how many waters Aaron had ordered for the table, it didn’t seem to do anything to curb the team’s somewhat reckless behavior. 

Emily had finally decided that she was ready to go home, so Spencer decided to go too. He wasn’t about to stick around with you alone. But it soon became very clear that you wouldn’t be going anywhere alone. You had definitely had too much to drink, and Emily was just tipsy enough that Spencer wasn’t sure if she could handle you. Great.

Emily had called an Uber and Spencer had done the same. Emily’s was leaving a bit earlier, so Spencer wanted to walk her out to make sure she got there safely. He was worried about getting you outside with them, but it turned out not to be a problem. You were all over Emily, holding her hand and leaning your head on her shoulder, chattering to her about how beautiful she was and how much you loved and appreciated her. 

It was strange watching you, honestly. When intoxicated, Derek and Emily usually opened up a bit more, were a little more loose and rambunctious. You weren’t as loud as they were, but you were definitely more outgoing and almost… bubbly. It was weird to see you being anything other than sullen, and you truly had a nice smile when you weren’t being so cranky all of the time. He knew you were kind even when sober, but right now you were outwardly affectionate and loving, which was not something he was used to seeing.

Emily had waved her goodbyes and then it was just the two of you on the dark sidewalk, waiting for your Uber. You started to look up at the sky and Spencer followed suit, trying to figure out what you were seeing. It was just the night sky and cloud cover, with a few stars here and there. You sighed.

“What are you thinking?” Spencer asked. You started to point up at the stars.

“Light pollution. Like you can tell from where the Big Dipper is that Orion and Scorpius should be there. But you can’t see them. Do you know the story about Orion?”

“Yes, actu-”

“Well I’m gonna tell it anyways because I want to,” you interrupted. “So Artemis was best friends with Orion, right? Like they would hunt together. Pretty much BFFS. Artemis’ brother, Apollo, was so jealous of them that he created Scorpius to hunt and kill Orion. And Zeus was so impressed that he put Scorpius in the sky. But Artemis was sad and so she asked Zeus to put Orion up there too, so he did. She didn’t speak to her brother for a long time after that.”

Spencer found it interesting that you chose this specific telling of the myth. Many people preferred the version where Orion said he would kill everything on earth. It was said that Gaia herself made Scorpius to kill Orion for his hubris. Many times, stories like these were used to teach lessons. The version with Gaia was a lesson in pride. You had chosen a lesser known version, one that highlighted envy instead. He wondered why that was?

The Uber arrived and Spencer climbed into the backseat with you. You chatted with the driver the entire way to your place, so much so that Spencer didn’t feel the need to say anything. He thanked the driver and ushered you out of the car and into your building. Other than little giggles here and there, you were mostly quiet with him, and yet at the bar and even with the driver you had been talkative.

Rather than letting you fumble your keys from your purse, Spencer reached in and got the building keys, guiding you inside before closing the door behind you. The two of you started your trek up the stairs, Spencer following close behind to make sure you didn’t fall. You took him to your door and he unlocked it for you, swinging it open so that you could walk through. You started to go but stopped in the doorway, turning to lean on the doorjamb and looking him up and down.

“You know what, Spence?”

No good ever came from you calling him that.

“What?” he replied. He honestly was expecting you to go to bed almost immediately when you got here. He wasn’t sure he could handle whatever serious conversation you were about to throw at him right now, considering he was still upset about the interaction in the elevator a few days ago.

“You’re really pretty,” you stated.

Spencer was taken aback.

“Uh, I think it might be time for you to go to bed,” he said awkwardly. This was extremely out of character for you. It was one thing for you to be affectionate to Emily; you were friends with her. But you had made it very clear this week that you and Spencer _weren’t_ friends. This was definitely the alcohol talking. He moved forward to help guide you into your apartment and you threw your hands up to block him.

“No, Spence, I’m serious! Look, let me tell you something.”

“No, I really don’t think-”

It was too late. You just kept talking.

“See, here’s what it is,” you started. “That way you roll up your sleeves onto your forearms like this, okay? Like what you have now? I mean I see you do it sometimes but you should do it more because it shows how strong your forearms are.”

“Yeah, I get it, I just don’t think right now is a good time for-”

“Shut up and let me finish! Okay and then sometimes you unbutton the top button on your shirt and loosen the tie, and it looks so good! Like professional but not in an old doctor way, more like a hot professor. And when your hair is just a little bit scruffy it’s just so cute. And you have such nice eyes, Spencer. Sometimes they’re green, sometimes they’re brown. They’re just so kind.”

You sighed, looking up at him with a dreamy smile. Spencer was blown away. It was one thing to bicker with you all of the time, to play games and irritate and make power plays against each other. But it was another thing for you to stand there and openly admire him like that. This felt like a conversation that was meant for someone else, definitely not for him. He had just happened to be here, so he was the object of your affections because there was nobody else around. 

He had insinuated to you over a month ago that he suspected you had feelings for him, and you had run away. At first, he thought it had meant he was right, but your behavior towards him hadn’t changed how he had expected. It was as if you had never given him a second thought, even after he brought it to your attention. Even with you staying the night earlier this week, it hadn’t been a romantic gesture at all, but one born of necessity, so he had pushed that theory aside. 

But the fact that you had wanted to be around him when you were upset made him think that you at least wanted to mend fences and be friends. After everything that had happened, it seemed like the most logical solution. It had hurt his feelings when he found out that you had omitted him from your story completely, as if the day you spent together meant nothing. It had meant something to him, and he wanted to know why you had decided he wasn’t even worth mentioning. He understood to a certain extent that you were trying to protect him, but even then, it didn’t warrant complete erasure. It was as if you were hiding involvement with him because you were embarrassed or ashamed of it.

Yet here you were, telling him about how you thought he was attractive. And not just general things, but specifics that made him think that this was something you thought about regularly. He had a sneaking feeling that you weren’t going to remember any of this in the morning, while he wouldn’t be able to forget the image of you leaning there with bright eyes and flushed cheeks, running your hand through your tousled hair with that silly grin on your face. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured, stepping closer to you. He let you lead him to your bedroom, where you turned the lights on, flopped on the bed dramatically, and started to take your shoes off. Spencer grabbed the blankets at the foot of the bed and waited for you to wiggle into place before he drew them over you, covering you up as best he could. He then went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water for you to drink in the morning, resisting the urge to look around too much.

He set the glass on your nightstand and looked down at you. 

“I’m going to go. Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay,” you nodded at him underneath the covers. Before he turned the lights off, he heard you call his name. He turned to you.

“Do you think I’m pretty, too?” you asked. Spencer answered without even thinking.

“I think you’re beautiful. Now get some rest.”

He flicked off the light and locked the door on his way out, leaving with more questions than answers.

-

Your POV

_JJ: Everyone get home alright?_

_Penny: Yep!_

_Em: absolutely_

_You: Don’t even know how, but yeah_

_Em: lol you were so blacked out_

_You: Yeah the headache really is killing me rn_

_Penny: U drank sooo much water & u still got a hangover????_

_JJ: You literally got up to pee so many times_

_Em: reid took you home, you dont remember?_

Oh. Oh no.

You knew what you were like drunk. You couldn’t imagine what blackout looked like. It had only happened once or twice in college but that was so long ago. You really drank your feelings away yesterday under the guise of a game and now you looked stupid. In front of your coworkers, no less.

_You: Honestly, no I kinda don’t. I didn’t get too crazy, did I?_

_JJ: You seemed fine when I left_

_Em: nah youre good, you didnt even dance on the tables :( just talked a lot tbh. Lots of hugs too_

_You: Oh okay, awesome. Glad I didn’t make a fool of myself lol_

_Penny: Bby u could never!_

Well that’s a relief. Now time for the hard part.

_Hey there, Reid. Thanks for dropping me off yesterday._

_Of course, anytime._

Okay… That seemed like a normal response he’d give in person, but left no context as to how you had acted. You tried again.

_Sorry if I was acting a little crazy, I think I had a little too much. I appreciate you looking out for me._

_It’s no problem._

Something about that period felt so final. What had happened?


	14. Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to say a big thank you to all of my readers who and everyone who has left comments and kudos! It is so exciting and validating to see people so interested in something I created. Lots of love for you guys, thank you!!!!

You honestly loved going undercover. Something about the change in makeup and hair and outfits just hit different, especially on the job.

There you were, in a low cut top and tight jeans, sitting at the bar and watching the crowd dance in the club while sipping a cranberry juice. Derek was over against the wall, chatting with a pretty girl and looking around every once in awhile. JJ was sitting at a table with Emily on the other side of the room, surveying the scene. Reid, Rossi, and Hotch were in an unmarked van a block over, watching the video feeds remotely.

Every once in awhile a guy or girl would come up to flirt with you, and every time you would decline because you were on the job. You had gotten a beautiful girl’s number, and though you knew you wouldn’t be in town after this job, you were hoping to text her later. Not for anything serious, seeing as you had some issues being emotionally unavailable and all, but it was nice to know that someone was interested in you.

The night ended uneventfully, the team coming up empty-handed. You went back to the van and started taking off your wire. It was wrapped around your body and dumb complicated, so when you finally ripped it off you fumbled and dropped it, sighing as you reached down to pick it up off the floor. When you were coming up from the ground, you saw it.

Dr. Spencer Reid was staring at your boobs. Even better, Dr. Spencer Reid realized that you had caught him staring. He blushed and turned away to the computer as you handed your stuff over to Rossi, who hadn’t seemed to notice. This was certainly an interesting chain of events. 

You thought about it on the ride back to the precinct, your mind still coming back to the look of guilt on his face when he knew he had been caught, and what he had said in that stairwell that seemed like forever ago.

_What if I said I thought about you?_

For the first time, you started to really think about Spencer. You had always taken it day by day, never once really stopped to think about the full picture. He had saved your life. Okay, that’s what anyone in his position would have done. However, he rode with you in the ambulance even though he didn’t need to, and stayed in or around your hospital room almost the entire time you had been there. Suspicious. He had allowed you into his apartment when you needed comfort, and had given you a safe space. Pretty normal considering your line of work. He had been strangely tender though, and more thoughtful than most people would have been giving the circumstances. You decided to come back to that later.

After that, he had gotten mad that you didn’t acknowledge that moment when talking to other people. Not really normal. He had made sure you got home safely on the night you had been drinking. Pushing it for a coworker, but not extremely out of place. Then there was the constant fighting. It was almost like he knew that invading your personal space was a way to shut down your brain, so he had used that to his advantage every once in awhile. Not only that, but he had taken time out of his life to observe you and find ways to push your buttons to make you more pissed off, for no reason other than to prove he could. Definitely out of place.

The puzzle pieces just didn’t seem to fit together. The only conclusion that you could come to was that Spencer wanted your attention, and fighting was the only way he knew how to get it because he knew you wouldn’t have been interested otherwise. Was he just interested sexually? Romantically? You had a hard time thinking this was really about just friendship. 

Then you had to ask yourself, how did you _really_ feel about Spencer Reid? You had been a willing participant in this game, but unwilling to consider how it was going to end. Maybe that’s what it was. Spencer was thinking six moves ahead, and you were only thinking one. He was playing chess and you were playing checkers. He was all about the end game, but you were just along for the ride.

So where did he want this ride to go? More importantly, how far did you want to take it? You had never really been that good at chess, and decided that maybe this was a question to answer another day.

-

There had been a thunderstorm warning for the area, but the storms hit way harder than expected. You were currently working alone in a small windowless room that the precinct had converted into a little station for the team, listening to the rain and thunder beat down on the small building. You had wanted some time alone, and there was a theory you wanted to test out, so you were standing in front of the corkboard the local police team had provided. It was getting pretty late and you knew the team wanted to go back to the hotel, but the storms were so bad you weren’t sure if you’d be leaving anytime soon.

The door suddenly opened and startled you. You nodded at Spencer as he entered. No words were exchanged, the only sound being the pouring rain. He sat down at the table, and you shifted your weight from one foot to another. There was barely any room in here to breathe in the first place; having Spencer there felt suffocating. You thought back to yesterday and his wandering eyes. That was a normal guy thing to do though, right? Maybe you had just been overthinking the entire situation.

_Click._

The room was plunged into absolute darkness, and you could hear people complaining from outside. You kept waiting for your eyes to adjust, but the lack of windows made it so that you couldn’t see a thing. 

“I’m gonna go out,” you stated after a moment, more for Spencer’s benefit than yours.

“I’ll follow you.” 

You made your way to where you thought the door was, feeling your way to it, and almost immediately smacked into Spencer. 

“Oh!”

“Shit, sorry!”

He grabbed your shoulders to steady you at the same time you had thrown your hands in front of yourself to try to stop the fall. Except he had thought you were going to fall backwards so he pulled you closer, your hands now on his chest. 

It was like an electric current shot through you. Was this happening right now? You couldn’t see him, but he was right there in front of you. The both of you were breathing a little heavily from the surprise impact, and you could feel his chest rising and falling and his heart fluttering underneath your hands. 

You had never realized how toned he actually was. He was warm and strong, and you felt safe there as the rain beat down overhead. This was unexpected, and you didn’t know what to do. You knew you should break away and head outside to the team, but there was something so alluring about staying here with him in the darkness.

And then one of his hands started moving upwards across your skin and your heart jumped. He cupped your jaw with one hand, fingers resting lightly on the side of your neck, his thumb on the bottom of your chin. Your breath caught in your lungs, and you knew he could feel your pulse racing underneath your skin. You felt more than heard him lean in towards you.

“Are you alright?” he asked. You could feel his breath on your face and it short-circuited your brain. It smelled like peppermint, and you _loved_ peppermint. Wait, what were you thinking? Were you alright? Why-

The lights popped back on. You and Spencer jumped from the surprise, pulling away from each other. You instinctively covered your eyes with your hands, waiting for them to adjust to the brightness. God, it hurt. And then Derek burst into the room.

“Reid, Hotch needs you to take a look at the geographic profile again."

“Yeah, sure.”

The two of them left, leaving you alone again in that small room. You could still feel Spencer’s soft touch lingering on your skin. What was that about? You were so confused, but even more concerned about the sinking feeling of disappointment in your stomach. You had wanted something to happen. 

You knew it was wrong. You kept a very strict policy of not getting involved with coworkers. But just now, Spencer had almost tempted you to break that rule. To throw away a boundary that you set for yourself. He hadn’t even asked you to; you were willing to do it almost on the spot, without question. 

That thought scared you.

You were not about to throw away an almost ten-year career for some dumb man that you fought with all of the time. Because that’s how this would go, as it inevitably does. The two of you would break up and you would leave the unit, because you knew you couldn’t handle being around someone after something like that. You couldn’t let that happen. You _wouldn’t_.

So rather than follow him out, you turned back to the corkboard and continued working on the case.

-

You stubbornly avoided Spencer after that. You wouldn’t let him get in your head. It felt so wrong, like he was doing this on purpose because he knew how important this job was to you. It felt like a personal attack. It was the biggest play he had made so far; he had gotten you comfortable and now he was going to progressively make your time at work so unbearable that you would have to leave.

Unacceptable. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. The case was done but the storms were bad again today, so the jet wouldn’t leave until tomorrow. You were stuck at the hotel and decided you’d get a snack from the vending machine room. You started down the hallway and opened the door to the small little break area.

You couldn’t explain what had happened next. It was like instinct had taken over, or something along those lines. Because when you opened the door to the room and walked in, you had thought you were alone. But then you heard something, and saw someone moving quickly towards you from the corner of your eye. Before you could even process what was going on, your brain went into panic mode. Fear shot straight through you, and you did what you had been trained to do. 

You turned and shoved the person away from you as quickly as you could. Before they could get their bearing you were already pushing them against the wall, one hand holding one of their arms down and your forearm at their neck. 

In that moment, standing there in silence, two things happened at once. The first was that you realized the person you had attacked was not a threat, it was Emily. The second thing you felt was like a click in your brain, and then the floodgates opened.

You knew that with people, especially with children who repress trauma, sometimes the trauma doesn’t resurface until they experience a situation similar to the initial traumatic incident. Your brain had been repressing what had happened in that warehouse, and when faced with the situation again, you reacted out of fear. In doing so, it brought back the entire encounter. 

It felt like an entire lifetime had passed, but it had only been maybe a split second from when you walked through the door. You immediately stepped away from Emily, who was shocked to say the least. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you.

You remembered. You had been thrown against the wall. You remember Spencer on the ground and you remember you couldn’t find your own gun so you used his. Your adrenaline was so high that you hadn’t realized you’d been stabbed until after it was over. It was like someone had poured warm coffee down the side of your body. Spencer had been right there the whole time. He had made sure that you were on the ground, he had told you it was going to hurt and you distinctly remember the feel of his hands pressing into you and the excruciating pain that followed. You had cried. He was yelling for help and talking frantically to you, tears in his eyes, trying to get you to stay awake. You couldn’t stay awake though, you were so dizzy and so tired. But the pain kept you semi-conscious, you know you were in and out for awhile. You remember Spencer’s voice telling you he was right there.

You started to cry, covering your face in shame. What had you done? What if this had been a stranger? What if you had had a weapon on you? You could have seriously hurt someone. Hell, you just threw Emily against a wall, you knew you had hurt her. You were lucky this time. 

Your crying became full blown sobs as Emily soothed you, grabbing a chair so you could sit. She sat on her knees in front of you on the floor, one hand on your knee and the other rubbing small circles on your back. She was murmuring words of comfort to you but you couldn’t even process what she was saying.

You knew you needed to say something, you knew you needed to tell her what had just happened, but you didn’t know what to say. You were shaking like a leaf and you didn’t know what to do. The memories and the thoughts of guilt swirled in your head on repeat and you just kept crying inconsolably. You knew you looked like a fool, but what could you do?

Sweet, sweet Emily was just there for you, doing whatever she could to calm you down. Eventually after a long while it felt like you did, and you could finally look her in the eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked. 

“I know. I know you are,” she said, smoothing your hair out of your face. “What happened?”

“I- I remembered,” you sniffled. “I’m so sorry, Em. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I-”

You started to cry again. Emily wiped the tears from your cheeks, concern written all across her face.

“You didn't hurt me at all. Give me a second, okay? I’ll be right back,” she reassured you. And then she was gone, leaving you alone. You were able to calm yourself down while she was away. All you had wanted was a dumb soda and instead you were having flashbacks. Fucking great. 

The door opened and you looked up at Emily, only to see that it was Spencer instead. Emily was behind him and said to you, “I’ll be down the hall, you can always come over.”

Then she turned around and left. Her heart was in the right place, you knew it was. She brought Spencer because he was the only person that saw what had happened to you, and she felt that it was such a private thing that she couldn’t be here. But you didn’t want to be alone with Spencer at all. Especially not when you looked like this; you were bra-less in your pajamas, eyes puffy and nose inflamed and runny. You were a wreck. 

Spencer kneeled in front of you, just like Emily had done. He took one of your hands in both of his and held it, and that act of tenderness alone almost sent you back into tears. You refused to look him in the eye because you couldn’t bear that type of embarrassment right now. 

“Emily said that you remembered. Was it everything?” 

You knew he was looking at your face, you knew he was trying to get you to look back at him but you just closed your eyes. You couldn’t do it. How could you even put this into words? You remembered the look of absolute horror on Spencer’s face, how scared he was when he had realized you were hurt, the tears in his eyes when he was calling for help. He told you he was right there for you and he continued to be, even after the paramedics got there. It was almost as if he had made that a promise. He stayed the entire time in the hospital, just for you. 

“Yeah,” you finally whispered. You opened your eyes and looked at him. His brow was furrowed, his mouth turned down in a frown of concern.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you said. He nodded.

“What do you need right now?” he asked.

“Can you just… stay? With me?”

“Of course.”

He stood and pulled up a chair so that he could sit facing you, continuing to hold your hand as he did so. The two of you sat there for what seemed like hours, not speaking or even looking at each other. Just sitting. You don’t remember how long you had been there, but you do remember him lightly shaking you awake.

“Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

You nodded and you both stood. You shuffled to your room, barely able to keep your eyes open from exhaustion. He walked beside you, putting his hand on your lower back to steady you as you walked. You got to your room and unlocked the door, walking through. Spencer had stopped in the doorway.

“You can come in.” 

He shot you a look of surprise. You knew you couldn’t be alone right now, and Emily was probably asleep. Spencer was already here, and you knew he wasn’t going to play games or hurt you right now. Plus, he really was the only one who understood what had happened to you. It just made sense.

“You want me to come in with you?” he asked incredulously. You yawned, nodding sleepily. He stepped in cautiously and closed the door behind himself as you turned to walk to your bed, crawling under the covers on the far side.

“You can stay here,” you said sleepily, patting the empty space on the bed next to you. Having him watch you sleep from the armchair in the corner was just weird. He needed to rest, too, and you wanted the extra comfort of having him there next to you. You weren't worried about tomorrow or even the implications of today. You just wanted to escape consciousness for awhile. You had half-expected him to lay down next to you, but instead he came to sit on the bed, his back against the headboard. He didn’t even get under the covers.

You weren’t going to question it. Without even thinking about it, you reached to grab one of his hands. He met you halfway and moved his arm so that both of you were comfortable enough to stay there awhile. You closed your eyes, and in no time you could feel yourself starting to drift into dreamless sleep once again.


	15. Walkthrough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, this work is labelled explicit for a reason :)

The both of you woke up to someone pounding on the door. Shit. Your head hurt, probably from the dehydration of crying so much. Spencer had jolted awake the same time you did, his head thunking against the headboard from the surprise. If he didn’t have a headache now, he probably would later.

You looked up at him from the pillows while he looked down at you from his sitting position. The bed was in the eyeline of the open door, and you weren’t sure how well anyone else from the team would take it if they found out you were in there together. In bed. Rather than opening the door, you decided to yell from the other side of the room.

“Yeah?” you called, still making eye contact with Spencer.

“You need to get up, we’re leaving soon!” Derek called.

“Okay!” you called back.

You heard Derek move away from your room and start knocking on Spencer’s door. Apparently the two of you were unaccounted for. He called Spencer’s name and pounded on the door a few times before giving up. 

“Guess you got up early to grab some coffee, huh?” you asked, grinning.

“Yeah,” he replied smiling, his voice thick with sleep. There was just something so nice about his voice in the mornings… 

“Hey.”

You looked back at Spencer, realizing your eyes and mind had started to wander.

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to be alright?”

You sucked in a deep breath. Were you?

“Yeah, I think so. Maybe we can talk about it when we get home?”

You knew you had needed a lot of time to process this, and now that you had the full picture in your head and were calm enough, you think you were ready to discuss it. You trusted Emily, you really did, but at the end of the day she just hadn’t been there. And as much as you were not okay with Spencer’s recent behavior, you appreciated his understanding and willingness to help you out with this. It superseded any argument or problem that you had with each other at the moment.

After the plane had landed, you offered to drive Reid home. He accepted, and now the two of you were in the car. Now that you weren’t in the comfort of a hotel room under the spell of sleep, it was awkward. Nothing seemed as funny anymore.

“Your place or mine?” you asked. Spencer shrugged from the passenger seat.

“Okay. Since I asked, I guess I can host,” you said. 

“Sounds good,” he replied.

You drove home in almost complete silence. You fiddled with the music on your phone while you drove, wondering what music Spencer liked to listen to. You had never thought about it before. 

He left his bag in your car and followed you up the stairs. You welcomed him into your place and closed the door behind you before throwing your bag of clothes into your room.

“You can sit wherever, if you’d like. Give me one sec,” you called. You closed the door and changed into comfy clothes. His freshly washed clothes had been sitting on your dresser for awhile. You emerged from your room and handed the clothes to him.

“If you wanted to change?” you proposed. Spencer nodded and stood from the armchair he had chosen. You directed him to the bathroom where he could change and sprawled on the couch, waiting for him to get back. He returned and sat in your armchair again, looking more relaxed. You had to laugh.

“What?”

“It’s like you’re my psychiatrist. Give me the diagnosis, Doctor.”

He smiled wryly. 

“I’m not that kind of doctor, and you know it.”

“Yeah, but I see how you manipulate that title. We all do, don’t act like you don’t try to pass for it.”

“Okay, maybe I do,” he admitted. “So what? It’s not like anyone’s going to ask.”

“Touché,” you laughed. It got quiet again.

Now what?

“You never told me what you remembered,” he said. Ah, so he was starting it. He probably wanted to get this over with so he could go home.

“Did you cry?”

He looked at you confusedly.

“What?”

“You had tears in your eyes when you were holding me that day, did you cry? I’ve never seen you cry before. I was just wondering if I missed out on a once in a lifetime offer because I got stabbed.”

Humor to cope with trauma. Your favorite.

“No, I didn’t,” he said quietly. “I was a little more worried about the blood loss.”

Oof.

“Yeah, I guess. He uh… he threw me into the wall. That’s how I got the concussion. I don’t know if you knew that.”

“No.”

“I think that when I saw Emily in that room, it brought me back. Just the way she snuck up on me, I don’t know. I feel bad, I threw her into the wall. She could have fought me and she didn’t. I’m surprised she didn’t break my arm.”

“She said she knew something was wrong, she’s never seen you actively lash out like that before. I mean really nobody has.”

“Except for you,” you said quietly.

“Except for me,” he echoed.

“I mean, in my defense, you-”

“Stop deflecting,” Spencer ordered. You stopped midsentence. He very rarely ever took charge, at work or even in general. Even when the two of you fought, he never demanded anything from you. But right now, he was calling the shots.

“Now,” he started, “you’re going to start from the beginning and you’re not going to stop until you reach the end. No side comments, no jokes. Start.”

Oh, he was serious. There was something about him sitting there in a big t-shirt and sweats ordering you around that was kind of… hot? You knew this was not your focus right now, you were supposed to do what he told you. That was the whole point of this visit.

So you started from the beginning, no pauses. You wanted to see if he would correct you, see if you had said anything wrong. But he didn’t. You finished your recount and looked over to see him biting his lip in thought. 

“You don’t remember the hospital ride?” he finally asked. You shook your head.

“It’s funny, you actually asked me if I was hurt on the ride over. You were bleeding out in the ambulance and asking _me_ if I was okay.”

You laughed. That sounded like you.

“Everything else is pretty much how it happened. I don’t see any discrepancies there which is good, it means your mind is pretty healthy.”

“Okay… good.” 

“Yeah… good.”

More silence.

“Do you… want to stay for dinner?” you asked. “I don’t really have any food here but we can order in Chinese or something if you’d like.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” 

The two of you turned on a documentary and ate dinner together. He stayed on the armchair though, away from you. It made you wonder why. Was it just that he felt safer there? Or perhaps the illusion of friendship was just that; an illusion. If you could even call it friendship. Last week you had been debating his feelings for you, and had decided he was out to sabotage you and your career. Right now, the two of you sat on opposite sides of your living room chatting about history. 

It didn’t make sense to you and you wanted to ask, but you were afraid of confrontation. Did you really want to know the answer?

-

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Your heart was racing.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

You nodded at Spencer as he opened the back door to your car. He hopped in after you and closed the door behind him, leaning in to you for a fiery kiss. You threw your arms around his neck enthusiastically. God, he tasted so good, like peppermint.

One of his hands was tangled in your hair, tilting your head back so he could kiss you properly, the other hand wandering down your body. He stopped at the button on your pants and pulled away from you to stare into your eyes, the both of you breathing heavily.

“Do you want this?” he asked, his voice rough.

“Yes,” you whispered. You were so enamored by him, by the intensity of his eyes and his sharp jawline, and the way he said your name. You didn’t need to say yes twice. Spencer helped lay you down on the backseat and started to unbutton your pants. You lifted your hips to help him take them off and then his face was between your legs, your hips tilted upward so that he could reach you easily.

His hot breath on your thighs was maddening and you squirmed, trying to get him to make a move. There was just a thin piece of fabric between your skin and his mouth but he refused to do anything. He just gripped your hips harder and held them in place, looking up to make eye contact with you. 

“We do it my way, or no way at all. Do you understand?”

You nodded, but he gripped you tighter.

“I _said_ , do you understand?”

“Yes!”

He smirked.

“Okay then. That’s all I needed to hear.”

He started to press open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs and slowly ran his fingers over the band of your underwear. Chills ran through your body as your heart pounded. He slowly started to peel your wet panties off and you clenched your fists. He wasn’t going fast enough, you needed-

Your morning alarm jarred you from your dream. You woke up to sunlight streaming into your room. You moved to turn your alarm off, your heart still racing and your breathing heavy.

What the fuck was that?

Sex dreams weren’t very common for you. It was one thing to dream about a stranger or an ex, it was another thing to dream of a coworker who you had no previous sexual encounter with. Spencer had left last night, you had driven him home after dinner. It had been uneventful.

You felt dirty, and not just because you could feel the wet spot between your legs. You felt bad because it felt like a weird violation of privacy to dream about someone unknowingly like that, without their permission. Even worse, how were you going to look at Spencer today without thinking about what it would feel like to have his face between your legs?

This was so fucking embarrassing. You’d held hands with him _for comfort_. You’d never even kissed the man and you were already dreaming about having car sex with him. You’d had car sex like once or twice in your teens, you honestly were not a huge fan, but something about doing it with the doctor made you hot and bothered.

God, what in the hell was wrong with you?

You hadn’t had sex or even really gotten off much since Bryan, considering the whole stabbing thing. Maybe that was it. Spencer was the closest thing to a “relationship” (if you could even call it that) in your life and you were turning it into something it wasn’t. What a joke. You rolled over to your nightstand and pulled out your vibrator. You tried not to do this in the mornings, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

For good measure before you started, you grabbed your phone to text that pretty girl from the bar last week. What was her name? Audrey? Either way, you were going to forget Spencer if it was the last thing you did.


	16. Audrey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! Just a reminder that reader is bisexual, and that her sexuality will be highlighted a bit more in this chapter. Also, I've got some personal stuff going on this weekend so I won't be able to update for a few days. Don't worry though, it'll give me plenty of time to come up with some great stuff for next time :) happy reading!

Audrey texted back pretty quickly, which is something you absolutely loved. She was an accountant with a wild side, with enough money to buy whatever she wanted for herself. This made for a really fun time when you would call her at night. 

It had started off so innocently, you had just texted her to ask how she was doing, if she remembered you. You didn’t think she would respond, but she got back to you quickly. It turned saucy within the next few weeks. She started sending suggestive texts and even sent you nudes, and you realized you hadn’t done that in a long time. You wanted to return the favor, but you weren’t confident in your body. Even then, you decided you would try for her.

You set up your mirror in your room and put on some old lingerie that had been hiding in the back of your dresser for so long that you didn’t even know the last time you had worn it. You wanted to start out at least a little modest to get the hang of it again. You posed on your bed, trying to get angles that you liked. It was honestly kind of hard to find pictures that you felt confident in, and you wished you were in college again, because at the time your friends would help you take pics to send to guys. But now you were on your own and sending pictures to another girl and that was even more intimidating because, as a woman, you were sure she was going to pick up on all of the things you disliked about yourself.

You did everything you could to hide the scars on your torso, just because you didn’t want her to ask about them. It made you feel gross to talk about it. If you were being honest with yourself, you also didn’t want to explain it and get too personal with her. The two of you had agreed this was just for fun, and that nothing more would come out of it. Your job kept you moving around so much, it wouldn’t be fair to tie her down like that.

Audrey did nothing but compliment you and gas up your ego. She was doing wonders for your confidence, and you found yourself smiling more and becoming more assertive at work. It was so refreshing to feel _good_ about yourself for once, and over time you started sending photos of yourself in less and less clothing, and in more compromising positions. Once or twice a week you would call each other while the both of you were in bed, whispering to each other about what you were doing to yourselves and what you wanted to do to each other. It helped that she was so into you, that you were able to pleasure her without even being there.

She helped you destress, too. She was willing to listen to you when you had a bad day at work, and you would do the same for her. She would offer words of encouragement, and even ordered chocolates to be sent to you on one particularly horrible day. It was just so nice to have a healthy way to relieve the stress and tension of your everyday life. If you weren’t hanging out or venting with the girls from work, you were texting Audrey. 

One of your favorite things to do would have been to complain about Spencer, except the two of you had been getting along recently. He did annoying things here or there, but you were mostly indifferent about him now. You had something better to focus on, and you weren’t going to let him get in the way of that. He had been cordial to you, too. You had small conversations in passing here or there the way normal coworkers would do, and you hadn’t had an argument in a hot minute. Maybe because you were finding release elsewhere, you didn’t feel the need to pick fights with him anymore. You were so much more mellow at work that you were sure he didn’t want to mess with you either.

One thing that annoyed you to no end though was that Spencer _refused_ to carry around an iPad for work. He would forget his phone in the car sometimes too because he “wasn’t a technology person” or whatever, so when looking at crime scenes on site he would sometimes ask to borrow someone’s phone to look at photos from previous scenes. It was fucking annoying, and he did it almost every single time. You knew it was coming at the scene, too. You had even said, “Don’t forget your phone,” before you left the vehicle, and what did he do? The one thing you told him not to. 

“Can I see the photos on your phone real quick?” he asked. You sighed exasperatedly. It was a losing battle, you knew, but you were still annoyed about it. You unlocked your phone and handed it over, going to walk around the other parts of the house where the victim had been found. All of a sudden, Spencer started violently coughing from the other room. You poked your head in to see what was wrong.

“You okay?” you asked. His face was red and it sounded like he was struggling to breathe.

“Yeah,” he said weakly, trying to recover his breath. “Just choked on my own spit.”

You laughed, going back to what you were doing. Of course he fucking did.

You didn’t put the pieces together until you were texting Audrey later that night in your hotel room, looking for something to send her. You usually separated your work photos from your personal ones, but this time you didn’t because the team had been in a rush to get stuff done today. Your nudes were right next to the crime scene photos Penny had sent you. And if Spencer had scrolled through without thinking about it, he definitely saw what you looked like naked.

Oh no. That’s why he was so red at the scene, why he was so quiet in the car on the ride back to the precinct. You suddenly felt extremely insecure. You focused on the last picture, the one he had most likely seen. You were sitting on your bathroom counter at home, completely naked with your leg propped up on the sink, your head tilted back to show a nice side profile. Your hair was loose down your back, and you were holding yourself up with one of your hands behind you so that you could push your chest out to give Audrey a great look at your boobs. There was nipple and everything. 

You were mortified. He had pretty much seen everything but your pussy itself. What a sickening feeling, to know that he had seen this. How in the world were you going to face him now? You couldn’t act ashamed either, it was better if he thought you didn’t know. You couldn’t let him think that you knew, the tension would be _so_ bad. You immediately called Audrey. She would know what to do.

“Hey babe, how’s it going?” she asked. Ugh, her voice was so fucking sexy. If you weren’t so panicked right now you would be turned on.

“Spencer fucking saw my photos,” you blurted. “I TOLD HIM to grab his phone from the car and he didn’t, so he borrowed mine and he saw my nudes. Like? What do I DO? I can’t even look at him right now.”

“Oh shit.” You heard the sound of shuffling. She was probably sitting up in bed. 

“How bad is it?” she asked.

“Almost full frontal. Nothing below the waist though, but definitely saw my boobs, nipples included. I freaking told him! And the thing is, I caught him looking and I didn’t even know! He looked like he was having a fit, all red-faced. He told me he had choked on his own spit. UGH!”

You flopped down on your bed frustratedly.

“Okay, well that’s not really your fault. He was looking at your stuff, what did he expect? And secondly, you’re _so_ beautiful, of course he’d choke. Who wouldn’t?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point,” you emphasized. “He saw me naked. How can I even recover from this?”

“Well, just sneak up on him and find him naked. Equal exchange. That usually does the trick.”

Oh.

“Actually… I’ve already done that.”

“You _what_? Oh my god, tell me all about it. How did it happen? Does he have a big dick?”

She was so enthusiastic, you had to laugh.

“No, okay, it’s not that serious! It happened like months ago, right after I started working with the profiling team. We were waiting in a safe house together and I walked in on him jacking off. Like in the shower.”

“Okay, but you didn’t answer the question! Is the doctor packing?”

You blushed a little bit, thinking back to that day. You hadn’t thought about it in quite some time.

“Yeah, honestly,” you admitted. “He’s like… really built too, for his size. I don’t know how he stays so fit because I never see or hear about him going to the gym but he’s honestly really strong.”

“Ooh, what is that?”

“What’s what?”

“Do you like him?” Audrey teased.

“Absolutely not!”

“Oh my god, you _do!_ How long? Like ballpark it for me.”

You were surprised she was being so cool about this. Usually something like a dumb crush would mean that your arrangement would end, and you didn’t think either of you wanted that. But at the same time, this was only temporary anyways, and you had gotten so close that you had told her a lot about yourself and she had done the same to you. That being said, she was your friend first, and you knew that she could easily pick up another person on the side, if she wasn’t doing that already.

You were definitely a jealous person, so you never asked if you were the only girl Audrey was talking to. It didn’t matter anyways, there were no feelings involved in this. It was easier that you weren’t physically close to her either. The physicality would make it too real.

“I really don't like him,” you insisted. “We literally used to fight _all_ the time, like nonstop bickering and stupid pranks and stuff. He would only do it in front of me, though. God forbid anyone else on the team find out he’s actually kind of a dick. But I mean he’s nice most of the time, especially now. He helped me a lot when I got hurt on the job and it’s been really calm since. No arguments or anything like that.”

“So, when you say help, do you mean…?”

“No! Nothing like that. He let me sleepover on his couch once, and he’s like… held my hand a few times when I cry. Took me home from the bar once when I was blackout drunk. But it’s not like that. He got really weird about it though, like almost territorial? He was upset I didn’t tell anyone we had hung out and I never really understood why.”

“Did you ever stop to think that this man may like you?”

You paused.

“Men like him aren’t interested in girls like me,” you said finally.

“Girls like you? Are you joking right now? You’re so fucking amazing! Boys like him- hell, boys in general- would be LUCKY to even be in your presence. Give a hot girl a gun and they are all over that shit! I’m telling you, there’s no way he wouldn’t wanna smash.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you conceded. “I’m just not interested. I like what I have going for myself now, and I’m not going to let him ruin that. I was so convinced for awhile that he was trying to get me to leave the unit anyways. I think it’s best if I just stay uninvolved with him.”

“That’s fair. Anyways, how did the rest of your day go?”

-

You thought you had been doing so well keeping your private life a secret. A few days had passed since the phone incident. You were sitting next to Spencer in a sequestered back room of the precinct, trying to ignore the tension that you knew was there. The two of you were watching old surveillance footage for the case.

“Who’s Audrey?” 

You refused to turn and look at him, refused to make eye contact.

“A friend,” you replied shortly.

“A friend from that bar in Kansas City?”

He knew. You did your best not to show any external signs of stress.

“Is that really any of your business?”

“No. I was just wondering if it was the same girl you text all day, every day.”

He knew damn well what the answer was, but you refused to give it to him. He was purposely trying to push your buttons, you could hear it in his voice. He was trying to act innocent, but he knew that what he was saying would set you off. Instead, you chose to remain silent.

“Is it the same person you talk to on the phone at night, too? What do you talk about?”

You turned to glare at him.

“Could you just shut the fuck up for once and leave me alone? It’s not any of your business.”

You turned back to the computers. Spencer muttered something under his breath, and something about that act caused your anger to flare up. You angrily paused the footage and turned your chair to face him.

“What the fuck is your problem? If you’ve got something to say, say it. You want to be a big man, go ahead. Say it with your chest, Spencer. Tell me how you _really_ feel.”

He turned in his chair to face you, leaning back to survey your expression.

“I _said_ , do you kiss Audrey with that mouth?”

He was fucking asking for it.

“So what if I do? What, are you jealous a woman could satisfy me better than you ever could?”

“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Spencer smirked. “Because I _know_ I’m better than her.”

Your cheeks flushed. What an absolute pretentious asshole.

“You wouldn’t even come close,” you spit back at him.

“Oh really? Let me prove it then. I bet you won’t do it.”

You froze. You had two options here. You could take the risk and let him kiss you. He would win if you did that. But he knew you were competitive; he knew you felt like you had something to prove. He challenged you, and backing down would make it look like you were too intimidated by him to take the risk.

“I’m not scared of you,” you replied.

He leaned forward so far that he was now in your personal space, his face inches from yours with that dumb smile still on his lips.

“Prove it.”

You grit your teeth, and in that moment you made your decision.

You bridged the gap and kissed him, your lips meeting his hesitantly. Instantly, it was as if a spark had gone off.

Spencer kissed you back with force, with passion. His hands moved to your jaw, his thumbs skimming your cheekbones as he held you there against him. His lips were so soft, and you were right about one thing; he did taste like peppermint. You felt like you could drown in this moment.

You kissed him back with enthusiasm, hands moving to curl your fingers in his hair. His hand moved to the back of your neck to tilt your head back so that he could pepper kisses along your jaw, your ear, your neck, your collarbone. It almost felt like you couldn’t breathe, you were so caught up in the moment. You were almost lightheaded. 

And then Spencer pulled away to look at you. The both of you were breathing heavily, staring into each other’s eyes.

Did you really just do that?

It was silent as a grave as the two of you stared at each other, trying to figure out what to do. Finally, Spencer smirked at you.

“Tell Audrey I said hello.”

He stood up and left, leaving you alone in the back room of a police station with a racing heart and a jumbled mind.


	17. Relax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: drug mention
> 
> Sorry I was gone for so long, friends! I have a longer than usual chapter to make up for it. Enjoy! ;)

You sat there stunned for what seemed like forever before eventually turning back to the computer screens to finish overseeing surveillance footage. The case had wrapped itself up quickly in a whirlwind after that, and you didn’t have a chance to even look at or speak to Spencer after the two of you had kissed.

You didn’t have time to call Audrey, but you texted her. You hesitated to even say anything in the first place, partially because Spencer had played you like a fiddle, and partially because you were unsure of where the two of you would stand if you mentioned it to her. But you couldn’t tell anyone else, so you decided to just bite the bullet and say something.

You had expected her behavior to change, but it didn’t. She had asked you how it felt to kiss him, how _you_ felt about the situation, and if you wanted more from him. You honestly didn’t really know the answers to any of those questions, and she was okay with that. She had reiterated a conversation the two of you had about a month ago when you had started the whole affair, that if you were ever uncomfortable or ever wanted things to change, to just let her know.

It was so comforting that Audrey didn’t treat it like a world-ending situation. It kind of felt like that to you. It was as if there was an ultimatum in the air, as if you had to make a choice that would affect not just your personal life, but your career as well. You didn’t tell her how Spencer had mentioned her, you thought it was too weird that Spencer apparently knew more about Audrey than she knew about him. 

Days had passed and with the case done, the team was on their way out of the office, straight from the jet. You were about to walk out of the front doors when Spencer caught up to you with that smug smile on his face. You knew you had left him behind; he had to have ran to catch up with you. He put his hand on your shoulder to stop you and leaned down to your level so he could say something that only you would hear.

“You should come to my place tonight.”

What the fuck? Where did that come from? How fucking presumptuous. You had kissed him once, _days ago_. That being said, he looked practically devilish with his ruffled hair and loose tie. Almost irresistible if you didn’t know any better. You frowned at him.

“Over my dead body.”

You pushed open the doors and walked away from him, refusing to look back. What kind of offer was that? It was like he was expecting you to break, expecting you to cave in and admit some type of feelings that didn’t exist.

“Are you sure?” he asked, following behind you. Lovely how he didn’t have energy on the plane to talk to anyone but had all the time in the world to bother you. He was almost playful with the way he was keeping pace with you, his long strides next to your shorter legs making it almost impossible to get away from him without flat out running.

“Yes, I am sure,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to avoid looking him in the eyes.

“Suit yourself. See you later!” he called, turning around and walking the opposite direction towards the metro. You just scoffed, continuing to walk to your car. You’d rather spend a quiet night alone.

-

It was a double whammy this week. Hotch had texted before the team got in that the next day you would need to be ready to go the second you arrived at the office. Ugh.

You were all walking to the jet when Reid sidled up next to you walking alone.

“How come you didn’t come over last night?” he asked nonchalantly. You looked up at him incredulously.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” He raised his eyebrows at you. “Isn’t that your thing? Saying you’re not going to do something and then doing it anyways?”

You flushed, opening your mouth to say something and then closing it again. He gave you a satisfied smile and walked forward quickly, leaving you behind to go catch up with JJ.

The case was a rough one. There was something about it that hit you especially hard. The wife of one of the victims. She was an old woman in her eighties. She had no children, no siblings, no parents, no pets, nothing. She was absolutely alone.

It scared you. Was that going to be you one day? Grieving the loss of someone you loved, closed off from the rest of the world. Too late to start over, with virtually no support system. The worst part was that you had to check in with her multiple times, and because you had been the one to initially visit her, Hotch had asked you to handle her affairs. It was absolutely heartbreaking. 

Before you had left town after finishing the case, she had offered you and the team homemade cookies. You took them onto the jet with you and shared them with everyone. You broke off a bite from one of them, but couldn’t stomach any more than that. Your chest ached to think about what she was doing right now, what she would be doing in the future. Would she find more happiness or die of a broken heart?

You knew you were getting quieter, progressively becoming more withdrawn as the case wore on. You hadn’t even really recovered from the last case. You had barely had a moment alone for almost two weeks, and you were ready to crawl into bed and spend some time alone. Audrey had even picked up on your lowered mood and radio silence. As much as you wanted to talk to someone, it was just too personal to share with anyone. It was embarrassing and seemed like you were asking people to pity you. The last thing you wanted to do was fish for attention.

The team had noticed, too. JJ had snuck you some of your favorite snacks, and Rossi had tried to talk to you about it but you weren’t really responsive. You were appreciative of them and let them know, but you just didn’t want to talk. You put your headphones in the entire way home on the jet, resting your head on the window to feign sleep.

You had finally gotten back into town and you were ready to just go home. You kept your headphones in all the way to your car, forgoing the goodbyes to the team. You hopped in the driver’s seat and slammed the door behind yourself, ripping your headphones out and resting your hands on top of the wheel before resting your head on your hands, closing your eyes. You needed a moment to breathe before you drove home.

_Tap tap._

You jumped and turned to the driver’s side window, seeing Spencer standing there. You started the car and then rolled down the window.

“Yeah?” you said tiredly.

“Move over,” Spencer said.

“Uh… what?”

“Let me take you home,” he said gently. You sighed.

“Spencer, I appreciate it but I really can’t do this right now. Please, just let me go.”

You stared at each other in silence. He just stood there outside your car door, and it became clear after prolonged silence that he wasn’t going to move. You were so tired, you figured it would be easier to just give in.

“Fine. Just get in the car.”

“No, let me drive.”

You looked over at him suspiciously.

“I’ve literally never seen you drive.”

“Well, I can. Move over, please.”

You rolled your eyes and got out of the car, walking over to the passenger side and hopping in. Spencer was already in the driver’s seat, adjusting the seat and mirrors before turning the classical music station on softly in the background.

“Just relax,” he said lightly, pulling out of the parking garage.

“I _am_ relaxed,” you quipped.

“I was talking to myself.”

“Oh…”

Spencer drove slowly but not badly. It wasn’t as bad as Derek or Emily had said it was. You just closed your eyes and leaned back. It was weird being a passenger in your own car. And then Spencer was shaking you awake in the garage at your apartment building. He wordlessly grabbed your things and helped you out of your car. He even walked you up to your apartment. 

You expected him to leave you at the door, but he didn’t. With his hand on the small of your back, he guided you to your room and set your things on the floor before ushering you to the bed. You sat and he took your shoes off for you before signaling you to lie down, and then kicked his shoes off and walked around to the other side to climb in next to you, both of you on top of the blankets.

You laid there on your side facing away from him. Honestly, how did you even get here? Just like that poor old woman, you were alone. You had Audrey but you knew it wouldn’t last. You had your coworkers, but jobs will take them elsewhere, different bonds made and broken. And here you were, laying in bed next to a man who drove you absolutely crazy, yet understood the most subtle intricacies about your mind and the way you needed to be cared for.

As if on cue, you heard him shift over and felt his forehead rest between your shoulder blades. His breath was warm on your back. It was enough to remind you that he was there for you, but not intimate the way handholding or cuddling would have been. It was perfect.

-

It was morning when you woke up, soft light streaming in through your curtains. You were so exhausted, you thought yesterday had been some kind of dream. Maybe the past week had been a dream too. But you rolled over in bed and suddenly were face to face with Spencer. He was a lot closer than you thought he would be. You started but then took a moment to take him in. His messy hair was framed around his head, the lightest bit of stubble along his jaw. The dark circles under his eyes weren’t as dark as normal. He had taken his tie off and unbuttoned his shirt so you could see part of his bare chest. 

He really was handsome like this, when he wasn’t annoying the shit out of you. You giggled a little, thinking about how cliché the whole thing was. Spencer’s eyes fluttered and then he opened them before you had a chance to turn around. He saw you smiling and he smiled sleepily back at you before closing his eyes again and yawning, stretching out his arms and legs.

Then he was staring at you again. There were no smiles now though, only seriousness on his face. 

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked. You opened your mouth to assuage him, of course you were okay, why wouldn’t you be? But before any noise came out of your mouth, your eyes started to water. You knew your voice would crack if you spoke, so you shut your mouth and closed your eyes, trying to blink away the tears that threatened to fall. 

“Hey, hey,” he said softly, resting his hand on your cheek. It just made you want to cry more, and you didn’t want him to see that. You started to turn over so he couldn’t see your face, but he caught you by the shoulder, stopping you from moving. You looked at him through blurry eyes and before you knew it, you were crying quietly. Spencer wiped the tears from your eyes, laying there next to you as you silently cried yourself out.

Finally, you were done, and he was still there next to you. You were embarrassed but had passed the point of caring. You were emotionally done, too tired to care about what you looked like. You were sure it was a sight, dressed in yesterday’s clothes with running and smudged makeup, messed up hair and tired eyes. You closed your eyes, feeling like you could go back to sleep, when Spencer started whispering to you, softly rubbing circles into your shoulder with his thumb.

“Let’s get up,” he said.

“Huh?” Your eyes fluttered open.

“Let’s get you a shower. Come on.”

He helped you out of bed and walked you to your bathroom, starting the water for you.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he said before exiting the room, closing the door behind him. You got undressed and stepped in the tub. 

You honestly weren’t sure how long you were standing under the spray, but suddenly Spencer was knocking on the door, asking if you were okay. You didn’t even really have the energy to reply, even though you knew you should. You heard him come in, and then he was slowly peeling the shower curtain back to peek at you.

“Would you… like some help?” he asked. You nodded slowly, and without even blinking Spencer stepped into the shower with you, fully clothed. Any other time, you would have loved to poke fun at him for how he looked, water dripping down his body and clothes soaked. Instead of saying anything, you just moved to make room for him in the small space. 

He wasted no time in finding your shampoo and starting to rub it slowly into your hair. He did the same with your soap and conditioner, continually asking if what he was doing was okay. And then you were done and he was ushering you out of the shower. He had apparently put your towel and fluffy bathrobe in the dryer, they were warm when you picked them up. He stayed under the water as you got out.

“I’ll be right there,” he said gently. “Just go lie down for me.”

You nodded and went to flop on the bed, closing your eyes.

And then you were awake again. You didn’t even remember falling asleep.

Spencer was sitting up in bed next to you, dressed in comfy clothes and reading a book. He noticed you stirring and looked down at you, smiling softly.

“Hey, there,” he murmured.

“Hi,” you whispered back, your throat crackly and dry. He turned and reached to the nightstand on his side of the bed, producing a glass of water for you. You sat up, adjusting the robe you were still wearing, and drank the whole glass in one go, the towel on your head starting to slip off. Spencer took the glass from you and you unraveled your hair. He smiled lightly at you.

“Are you hungry?”

You nodded. 

“Okay, give me a second.”

He left, and returned a few minutes later with another glass of water and a bowl of chilled fruit. You looked at him quizzically.

“I didn’t have any food in the fridge.”

“I know. You were out for awhile, I just grabbed a few things.”

“Oh… thank you.”

“It’s not a problem.”

He handed you the bowl of fruit and set the water on your nightstand before going back to the other side of the bed and sitting down next to you again. He plucked a grape or two from you while you were eating, both of you still quiet. You put the empty bowl on the nightstand and drank the whole glass of water before Spencer spoke.

“Does that happen often?”

You paused, taking some time to think about it.

“No,” you admitted. “Not really. It happened more when I was younger, before therapy and stuff. It’s just been stressful recently. Sometimes I still get nightmares about the warehouse. Mostly, I just can’t relax. And this last case just hit me too hard. I feel like I can’t breathe sometimes. Like there’s this weight on my chest. It’s too much.”

You had never admitted this to anybody. Since you had started the job months ago, you felt like you couldn’t rest, couldn’t really breathe. You spent most of your days off trying to recuperate mentally from everything you had seen, everything you’d been exposed to, but it was never enough. You couldn’t even look at Spencer when you said it either. 

He reached out and grabbed your hand.

“I get it,” he replied. “Maybe you just need some extra time off. You didn’t even take any real time after you were hurt. You should look into it.”

“Yeah…”

His hand was soft surrounding yours.

“How do you deal with it?” you finally asked. It was quiet for awhile before he answered.

“Books. Research, a lot of times.” He paused. “Sex.”

Somehow… that wasn’t too surprising. He never drank, he was pretty mild other than the temper he sometimes had. You figured he had to have a vice of some kind.

“So… sex, drugs, and rock and roll?” you joked, trying to make light of it.

“Actually, yeah. Drugs. At least for awhile,” he said quietly. 

Oh.

“I- I’m sorry, Spencer. I didn’t know.”

“It was dilaudid. It was a few years ago. That’s why I don’t really drink like Emily or Derek. I have to find release a different way.”

You didn’t really know anything about dilaudid at all. 

“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” you said quietly.

“No, it’s alright,” he reassured you. “You didn’t know. We all deal with things our own way.”

It was quiet again, the both of you lost in thought.

“Sex, though? Really?” you asked finally. He turned to look at you, smiling softly.

“Don’t act so surprised.”

“I’m not surprised, just wondering like… how are you picking up girls if you’re not even in town half the time? And you don’t even really go to bars, so where are you finding them? At the bookstore?”

“Who said I only picked up girls?”

You felt heat spread across your face. Apparently, you weren’t the only one on the team who swung both ways.

“Touché,” you muttered. Spencer chuckled.

“It’s fine,” he said. “It’s just something that helps.”

It got quiet again. You weren’t really sure what to think. The two of you sat there in comfortable silence, holding hands for a little bit until he broke the silence.

“Do you want me to show you?”

You looked over at him confusedly.

“Show me what?”

“How to relax.”

What could it hurt?

“Um… yeah. Okay.”

“Alright. If you want to back out at any time, if you’re uncomfortable at all, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

Your stomach flipped nervously. What was he going to do? You nodded at him anyways, somewhat curious to see where this was going to go.

“I need to you to say yes,” he said, squeezing your hand. You turned to look at him. There was sincerity in his eyes.

“Okay. Yes.”

“Alright. Get in the middle of the bed. Lie down for me.”

“Okay.”

As you moved to do what he asked, he crawled towards the end of the bed so that he was sitting at your feet.

“Remember, at any time you can say stop and I will.”

“Alright.”

Spencer leaned forward and moved some pillows around behind your head so that you would be more comfortable. Then he started to softly run his fingers through your hair, moving to caress your jaw and then run his thumb over your lips. You were watching him the whole time. He made eye contact with you.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered. So you did. 

You felt his fingers trace your collarbone, and move down to the tie on your robe. His hands hovered there for a moment.

“Is this okay?” he asked. His voice sounded almost hoarse.

“Yeah,” you whispered. You heart was racing, and you felt almost breathless. Your coworker was about to see you naked. He untied your robe and pulled it away from your body. The cold air hit you and you started to shiver slightly from the temperature change as well as the anticipation. The shivers didn’t last long. Spencer’s warm hands started at your stomach and made their way up to your chest, his fingers rubbing small circles in your skin.

You were feeling nervous, insecure. He hadn’t said anything about your body, did he not like it? Why was it important to you that he cared? You knew he could feel how fast your heart was beating under your skin, but he didn’t say anything. He just continued his path down your body until he made his way to your scars. You opened your eyes and shot out your hand to stop him.

He looked up from his spot at your feet and made eye contact with you.

“Not there,” you said.

“Y/N, please. Let someone love you for once. Let me do this for you.”

“Wh- what?”

“You heard me. Now please, close your eyes. Let me finish.”

Reluctantly, you withdrew your hand and closed your eyes. He kept going, and you felt him start to move his hands down your body until he was at your thighs. He parted them, and your breath hitched. You felt extremely vulnerable right now. Was he…?

“It’s alright,” he said soothingly. “Just try to focus on your breathing, okay?”

It was hard to relax when you couldn’t see what he was doing. His hands left your thighs and then started at your left foot, massaging the bottom of your foot, and then your ankle, your calve, and then your thigh before moving onto the right side, working his way up there as well. He turned his attention back to your hips, rubbing circles on the top and lifting them a bit to get to your back.

“You’re still tense,” he murmured. You could feel his fingers pressing deep into your muscle and it felt good, but you could feel the resistance as well. Spencer kept it up for awhile until finally, _finally_ , you felt your pelvis relax into his hands. Your breathing had slowed, and you really were calm.

“Good,” he whispered. His hands left your hips and started to move between your thighs. You started to tense up and you felt one of his hands come back to your hips, his fingers brushing over your skin softly.

“No, don’t lose it,” he said, his voice coarse. “Don’t worry about me. Just focus on the feeling.”

You felt and heard him shift around on the bed, and then you felt his head rest on one of your open thighs. His hair was soft, a contrast with the little stubble he had, and you could feel his breath hitting your core. You wanted to squirm but knew you shouldn’t, so you tried to keep still.

One of his hands remained on your hips while the other ran along the inside of your thighs, giving you goosebumps. Eventually, his fingers dipped between your folds, rubbing lightly on the skin there. You didn’t realize how wet you were until you felt his fingers spreading it around down there. You flushed a little bit. His fingertips traced around your clit and your entrance, never applying any pressure. You were still a bit tense, so he kept it up. And then he started to talk to you.

Actually, it’s more that he was talking at you rather than to you. It was affirmations, but not what you were used to. Usually with someone else it was things like, “you’re so beautiful,” or “your body is perfect.” Spencer didn’t say anything like that. He said things like “you are so strong,” and “your smile holds so much joy.”

You could feel his jaw moving against your skin, the stubble brushing along the inside of your sensitive thighs, and it made you shiver. The way he was speaking was devotional, almost reverent.

“You are brilliant.”

He slowly slipped one finger inside of you, waiting for you to adjust before he started a steady pace. A few minutes later, he added another finger, still going slow and steady.

“I admire your compassion for others.”

You could feel yourself starting to tense from your orgasm, but he kept his hand firm on your hips to keep them down. He started to curl his fingers inside you, hitting a spot that made you moan. You were so lost in the moment, you didn’t even stop to think about how embarrassing it was for him to hear you like that. You were getting really close, you could feel it. You felt his smile against your skin.

“You are unapologetically yourself.”

You were breathing heavily, letting out little whimpers as he continued. He moved his thumb to your clit and pressed it down, massaging it in circles at just the right pace that had you orgasm in no time at all. You were seeing stars.

“You are so loved.”

You had heard stories about people who had become so relaxed that they cried. You had never thought it would happen to you. It felt like your body and soul had taken a huge sigh of relief, letting out every single negative thought and feeling and emotion, leaving you blank and almost blissful. You began to cry.

“Hey, there,” Spencer said softly, moving up to lie next to you. He used his clean hand to wipe away your tears. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, trying to compose yourself. You had never felt anything like that before. You weren’t even sure what you could really liken it to. Spencer pulled you into his arms, and you buried your head in his chest until you had stopped crying. After awhile, Spencer pulled back. 

“Can I get you some water? Some food? Both?”

“Both,” you whispered.

“Okay. Give me just a few minutes. I’ll be back soon.”

You nodded at him and wrapped your robe tightly against your body again as he left, closing your eyes to rest just a little bit more.


	18. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! I've been hella busy with work recently, but I'm trying to get you guys stuff as quickly as possible. I also made this story available on Wattpad! I'm Marli013 if you want to give me a shout there too.

Spencer came back with breakfast food for the both of you, along with more water. You sat up in bed, taking the plate that he offered.

“Thank you,” you said softly. He sat in front of you cross-legged as the two of you ate. You put the plates on the nightstand after you were both finished. You knew you were going to have to have a tough conversation, and now seemed to be the best time to do it.

“Spencer.”

He looked up and made eye contact with you.

“What do we do now?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean… what do we tell our friends? What do we tell ourselves? We can’t just… go back to normal, can we?”

“Well, that depends,” he said. “What do you think we should do?”

You frowned. He was turning the question back onto you. What was he hiding?

“I asked you first.”

“And?”

Okay. You weren’t going to get anywhere with this line of questioning. You went to the next topic. 

“So what can I do for you?”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I mean,” you gestured to the bed, “I would like to repay you for this and um…. I was just wondering what I could do to make you happy.”

You flushed a little bit. This was awkward. But you couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened, and you wanted to make up for it. You felt indebted to him. 

“Absolutely not,” he said coldly. You were taken aback by his sudden change in tone.

“What? Why?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees to look you more closely in the eyes.

“This is not what I want for us. This is not a transactional relationship, and I won’t accept sexual favors from you as a way to make up for the things I do for you.”

“Isn’t that what you did, though? A sexual favor?”

“I was helping out a friend,” he replied smoothly. You frowned.

“You said you don’t want this for us. So what do you actually want?”

“I want you to be happy.”

“You’re avoiding the question, Spencer. What do you want for yourself?”

He was silent for a moment.

“You really haven’t figured it out, have you?”

You scoffed.

“I’m supposed to be a mind reader now?”

It was escalating. You knew if you weren’t careful this could turn into another fight, and you had a feeling it would be a big one. You were tired, you were done fighting with him all of the time. You wished it could be black and white, you wished his behavior was consistent so you didn’t feel the need to overananlyze things. He just made it so complicated for no reason.

“You’re an actual profiler for the FBI. Either you can’t see what’s right in front of you or you’re so in denial that you refuse to look. I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Y/N. I really don’t.”

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Your anger started to flare but you pushed it back down. You needed to stay calm for this.

“Do _what?_ Fight all the time? Spencer, I just want to understand what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. You won’t tell me and I don’t understand.”

“Now you know how frustrating it is for me! Do you think it’s easy when you go from hating my guts to asking me for help the next day? I can’t tell if you’re using me, or if you’re just fighting with yourself about how you feel. You barely talk about what’s wrong with you, so I never know what it’s about. If you need someone to sleep next to so badly, you can easily find someone somewhere else. I don’t understand why you continue to choose me when you constantly pick fights and argue with me and then deny that anything happened.”

You would never admit it to him, but that kinda hurt your feelings. Is that what he actually thought of you? Were you actually like that? Were you just using him for comfort? But he had _offered_ his help first on multiple occasions, was it your fault for saying yes? And his comment about finding someone else just stung. You didn’t want just anybody else. You wanted him. 

“Fine,” you spit at him. “Go ahead and leave. I’d rather be by myself than alone with you.”

You stood up to show him to the door and he jumped up, grabbing your shoulder as he did. He looked you straight in the eyes.

“You don’t mean that.”

Suddenly, the fire you had been feeling was snuffed out. Your momentum slowed.

“I do.”

“You do?”

You stood your ground, craning your neck upwards to defiantly keep eye contact with him and shook his hand off of your shoulder.

“Yes.”

You wanted to sound strong but your voice was too unsure. You were almost breathless.

“I bet I can prove that you’re lying.”

He leaned over you, his face dangerously close to yours. Were his eyes always this beautiful?

No no no. He was distracting you. You tried to focus on something that wasn’t him. You couldn’t let him shake you.

“Why are you doing this right now?” you asked. It was a valid question. He had just expressed frustration with you and then had done a complete 180 in a matter of seconds. You could barely look him in the eyes, he was too close.

“You don’t respond well to anything other than decisions under pressure. So I’m giving you one right now, and I want you to think very carefully about this.”

You frowned, opening your mouth to protest before he spoke again in a low tone.

“Don’t argue with me. Think of it like an experiment. I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer honestly. Can you do that?”

You had lost control of the situation, and the both of you knew it. 

“I don’t have to play your games, Spencer.”

“And yet you continue to play them every time. Look me in the eyes right now and tell me in all seriousness that you want me to stay, and I will. Otherwise, I’ll leave right now. You have thirty seconds, starting now.”

The two of you stared at each other while you tried to get your thoughts together. Did you want him to leave? What was he trying to find out from this? He was the one who had expressed how upset he was with you. Why was it up to you to prove something to him? Why was he making this your decision when he could easily walk out on his own?

The silence dragged on.

“Fifteen seconds.”

Fuck. 

“Spencer, I-”

“Ten.”

“I really don’t think-”

“Five.”

“Four.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

“Okay, fine!” you burst. “Stay! I want you to stay, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

He grinned at you, taking a small step backwards to give you space to breathe.

“Was that really so bad?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, next question.”

You groaned.

“No. No more questions.”

“Well what am I going to do to pass the time, since I’m staying here?”

You sighed. He had fucking won again. You wanted to wipe that stupid grin off of his face. 

“Did you get what you wanted, Spencer?”

“Yes, actually, I did,” he replied smugly.

“Well? Are you going to share the results of your dumb experiment or not?”

He bent down to your level so that the two of you were face-to-face. 

“I need you to answer one more question for me, just to be sure.”

God, your brain was starting to get scrambled again, having him this close. Maybe if you relented to this one thing, he would stop. You wondered how long it would take for him to get bored of antagonizing you like this.

“Fine. What?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Your first thought was an absolute, resounding _yes_. Then you realized, no. This couldn’t happen, because you didn’t let coworkers kiss you. It wasn’t right. But looking at him, so close you could kiss him yourself if you wanted, made you rethink it. When he asked you, it made you realize how bad you wanted it. You thought about how it felt the first time, the feeling of his hands on your face and his lips on your skin… 

Hold on a second.

You could tell that your hesitation was making him anxious. His eyes searched your face for any clue of what your answer would be. You were making him nervous. He had been so confident in his hypothesis that he didn’t even stop to consider who he was talking to.

“Why do you want to kiss me, Spence?”

He furrowed his eyebrows and you smiled.

“What? All of a sudden you don’t have anything to say?”

Before you could blink, his hands were cupping your face, his thumbs resting lightly on your cheekbones as his fingers sprawled across your neck. You gasped from surprise, your heart beating so quickly that you were sure he could hear it. 

“Tell me right now that you wouldn’t do it.”

The way his voice dropped had you hot and bothered. You were flustered, but so was he. He was trying so hard in the moment to take control of the situation, but you could see that _both_ of you were out of control, hurtling towards the inevitable. 

You knew what he meant now.

“Then do it,” you dared. “Kiss me.”


	19. Wine Night

There was no hesitation.

Spencer breached the gap, pulling your face to his so that he could kiss you. It felt like he was stealing your breath away. You snaked your fingers into his hair, tugging lightly. It just encouraged him even more; he nipped at your bottom lip, moving his hands down to your waist so he could pull you closer to him.

His body was pressed up against yours, and you were on your tiptoes trying to get even closer to him. You couldn’t get enough of each other, both of you panting. He grabbed your hips and lifted you up to messily throw you on the bed. For a moment you were apart, and then he was on you, this time straddling your hips. He leaned down to kiss you again, one hand curling into the hair at the back of your head. He pulled your head back, exposing your neck so he could kiss lower and lower.

You still had your hands in his hair, tugging at it and gasping when he hit sensitive spots on your skin. He stopped at your chest where your robe was covering your body, his hands dancing around the tie in the front. You looked down at him and your eyes met. There was this fire there, one that you had only seen a few times but that made your insides flutter every time.

“May I?” 

God, his voice was so hot when he was like this.

“Please. Yes,” you breathed.

He deftly untied your robe, and you reached forward to slip out of it and help him take his shirt off. He threw his shirt into the room somewhere and you ran your fingers up and down his surprisingly toned chest, admiring him. He was so beautiful. Your gaze went back to his face and you found him staring at you, biting his lip. You reached up to his face, wanting to pull him down to kiss you, but he stopped you.

“Wait. I want to remember you like this.”

Sometimes you forgot that he had an eidetic memory. The fact that he wanted to look at you, _remember_ what you looked like, made your heart swell. You took a moment to look at him, too. His hair was tousled to no end, his beautiful lips pink and a little swollen, still some stubble on his jaw.

His hands distracted you from your reverie. They were ghosting down your body, settling at your bare hips. He kissed your lips once again, this time moving his mouth down, over your throat, your collarbone, your nipples. He made it to your bellybutton before you heard pounding on a door.

The two of you froze, waiting to see if it would happen again. Nothing. He went back to kissing you when the pounding started again, and the distinct sound of someone calling your name. Shit.

You and Spencer jumped apart. You ran around the bed to grab your robe while he frantically looked for the shirt he had previously discarded. You dashed to the door, tying your robe around yourself and trying to fix whatever mess your hair was before opening the door. Penelope was standing there, a gift basket in hand.

“Penny!” you exclaimed, louder than you knew you needed to be. “What a surprise! What are you doing here?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Spencer dashing out of eyesight somewhere in your room.

“Well,” she said, barging into your place, “a little birdy told me you weren’t doing so well, so I thought we’d have wine and snacks and a movie! Attendance is mandatory, I am _not_ taking no for an answer.”

She plopped onto your couch, setting the basket on your coffee table. Wine _and_ a movie? That was at least two hours, tops. You weren’t sure how long Spencer could hold out. Hell, you had just gone through what felt like a rollercoaster ride. You were wet between your legs and your heart was still racing. 

“Okay, girlie! Let me just get changed and I’ll be ready.”

“Alrighty!”

You were walking back to your room when you noticed Spencer’s shoes by the side of the couch. You prayed Penny hadn’t noticed them when she walked in. You nonchalantly picked them up, closing the door to your room behind you. You turned around and Spencer was right there, his eyes wide. You put your finger on your mouth, signaling him to be quiet. You grabbed some clothes and went to your bathroom, signaling Spencer in first so that you could close the door behind him. You started to get dressed, frantically whispering to him as you did so.

“After I get dressed, I’m going to walk into my closet to put my robe in there. You’re going to walk side by side with me and then you’re going to stay in there until she leaves.”

“Can I at least grab my book from the nightstand?” he whispered back.

“No!” you smacked him lightly. “How weird does it look to keep the closet light on?”

“But your bedroom door will be closed.”

You were banging around, trying to cover up the sound of your whispers.

“Absolutely not! There is nothing more suspicious than keeping the bedroom door closed with company over.”

“So you expect me to sit in the dark on the floor of your closet for two hours?” 

“Yes! Unless you want to personally tell Penelope what you were doing to me 5 minutes ago.”

He blanched.

“I think your plan is fine,” he muttered.

“Yeah. Follow me.”

You walked side by side, watching him keep steps with you so that it looked like there was only one person in your room. You opened the closet door and moved aside for him to get in. He stood there a moment before sitting down among the piles of shoes and dirty clothes. You almost laughed at how funny the situation was. You closed the door on him, leaving him in the dark.

-

It wasn’t until you were in a situation like this that you realized how much Penny loved to talk. Even with the movie going on, some cute little chick flick, you were forced to pay attention and participate. But all you could think about was the feeling of Spencer’s hands on you, how his lips felt against your body. 

You were acting weird and spacey, you knew you were. Poor Penny had to struggle to keep the conversation afloat for the both of you. You just sipped on your wine, laughing when you knew you should and trying your best not to give one word answers to everything she asked you.

Then, _finally_ , it was over. You had made it. Penny was on her way out when she stopped cold by the doorway.

“Is that Spencer’s bag?”

_What?_

You turned to where she was looking. He had nestled his leather bag in your desk chair. The chair had been pushed in, so you hadn’t even seen it sitting there. Fuck.

“Oh, yeah! I completely forgot about it. I drove him home yesterday because he was in a hurry and he left it in my car. I brought it up with me on accident and just put it there to keep it out of the way.”

“He really forgot his bag? He carries it around everywhere.”

You shrugged nonchalantly.

“I know, it was really weird. He was in such a hurry. I texted him too, and he said he didn’t need it for a few days. I figured I’d give it back when we got back to the office day after tomorrow.”

“Huh. So did you two ever stop whatever feud you had going on?”

“Uhhhhh…” you hesitated. “I guess? We’re not on bad terms, if that makes sense? After my accident, he was really there for me. Made things easier.”

She nodded.

“Uh huh. Anyways, I guess I’ll see you in a few days! I hope you feel better soon, sugar. Call or text me anytime, okay?”

You hugged her and smiled.

“Absolutely, Penny. Thank you. It means a lot that you came here for me tonight.”

You meant that. Even though it had interrupted a… steamy moment, the fact that she had shown up out of the blue just to try to take care of you made your heart warm. You loved her so much, and were thankful to have her in your life.

“Anytime, girl. Have a good night.”

“You too, Pen. Text me when you get home safely, alright?”

You closed and locked the door as she left. You turned around to go get Spencer from the closet, but he was already leaning in the doorway of your bedroom with a small smile on his face. You grinned and made your way over to him, putting your hands on his chest. You were nervous all of a sudden. When it wasn’t happening in the moment, when you had to actually think about what you were going to do, your stomach was full of butterflies.

“Well?” you asked. “Are you ready?”

He put his hands on your shoulders.

“Not tonight,” he said softly.

“What?” you frowned up at him. He looked somewhere behind you, and then focused on your face again.

“From what it looks like, you had a few drinks. I’m not doing anything with you unless you’re sober and consenting.”

“Spencer. It was like two or three glasses of wine, I’m not even really tipsy. And I was more than willing to consent earlier.”

“Yes, I know,” he chuckled, rubbing your shoulders to soothe you. “I’m just not comfortable with it. I feel like I’d be taking advantage of you. Why don’t we just watch some tv, okay? Another documentary?”

You knew he was protecting you, but it was so frustrating. You were so _close_. But you also didn’t want to pressure him either. If he wasn’t comfortable, you weren’t going to push it.

“Yeah, that’s okay.”

He steered you to the couch once more. You plopped down on the cushions and he sat right next to you, pulling the blanket off of the back of the couch to cover your lap. The two of you stayed up late, snacking and chatting until you both fell asleep in the early hours of the morning.


	20. Questions

You woke up to the sound of your phone ringing on the coffee table. You untangled yourself from Spencer and reached over. It was Hotch.

“Hey, Hotch. What’s up?” you croaked.

“I know I gave the team an extra day, but we need you in the office as soon as possible. Can you get here quickly?” 

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “I can be there in about an hour. That okay?”

“That’s fine. See you there.”

He hung up. You sighed. You thought you had one more day with Spencer, but no. He started to stir next to you, your conversation on the phone waking him up.

“Who was that?” he asked in his low morning voice, yawning.

“Hotch. We have to go in early. Like ASAP.”

Spencer’s phone started ringing from your bedroom. Probably Hotch. He got up to answer it, leaving you missing his warmth on the couch.

After his call you got up to join him in the bedroom. He was putting his shoes on. You knew he was going to have to leave eventually, but you felt a twinge of sadness in your heart to see him go. You walked him to the door.

“I need to grab some things from my place, but I’ll meet you at work, okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you nodded. He patted his pockets.

“Oh, I need my bag.”

“No, remember what I told Pen? You left it in my car. What do you need from it? While you’re at it, you may want to think of an excuse as to why you had to rush out without it.”

“Just my keys and wallet.”

You went to his satchel and dug through it, finding what he needed and handing it over to him. He took them from you and stuffed them in the pockets of his sweats. He opened your front door and you got that sad feeling again.

“Stay safe,” you said softly. He turned back to you and kissed your forehead delicately. 

“Of course I will. See you soon.”

“Okay.”

You watched him walk down the stairs until he was out of sight before closing your front door. You sighed and started to prepare yourself for yet another case. 

-

You were right. You fucking _knew_ you were! And yet, Spencer tried to argue with you in front of the team about it. Hotch separated the two of you because it had started to get a little ugly. It wasn’t like a normal fight that the two of you had. It wasn’t personal at all. You were mad because the genius couldn’t admit that maybe he was wrong about something for once. 

The thing that made it even worse was that Hotch paired you with JJ and Reid with Emily because he knew the team dynamics. JJ was close to Reid, you were close to Emily. You knew that Hotch wanted them to try to convince the two of you to reconcile by putting you with people who would talk you out of fighting. But you were stubborn, and you had decided that this hill was the hill you were going to die on.

Morgan had to stick with Hotch because he would just make everything worse and you all knew it. He _loved_ to see someone call Reid out. He would egg you on and antagonize Spencer at the same time. And poor Rossi and Hotch were caught in the crossfire, on nobody’s side at all. To be quite honest, nobody was really taking sides per se, but you and Spencer had decided to work separate angles. And though both sides were plausible, you found holes in his theory that proved you were right. 

It was late in the evening when everyone went back to the hotel, staggering their departures depending on how much work they had. Separating you and Spencer hadn’t worked in Hotch’s favor, so he instead made the both of you sit down and work at the precinct until the two of you “came to a compromise.” That was the nice way of putting it. He had heavily implied that there would be a lot more problems tomorrow from him if the two of you didn’t fix your issues today. Now you two were the only ones left, staying hours behind everyone trying to work things out. 

You had decided that you were just going to keep quiet and have the “I told you so” moment later. Getting the last word seemed better than getting in trouble with Hotch later, and you were starting to get tired. You conceded to Spencer for the time being, and then the two of you were off to the hotel. You thought that was the end of it for now, you really did. But the curse of the elevator just kept coming back.

“I’m glad you finally see it my way,” Spencer said as the doors closed. You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t, actually.”

He turned to look at you almost incredulously.

“What? But I thought you said-”

“I said it was fine, not that I agreed with you. I just don’t want Hotch to be mad at us.”

“So you’re going to sacrifice what you believe just to make someone else feel better?”

You shrugged.

“It’s not about what I believe. I’m just waiting for the moment that I can rub it in your face when I’m right.”

“But you’re wrong.”

“Just shut up, Spencer.”

“Make me.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You looked over at him and he had that stupid smirk on his face. He was challenging you. Well, if he could play that game then so could you. You hadn’t so much as even touched him since he left your apartment a few days ago. You were just short enough that you couldn’t kiss him to make him be quiet either, which is what you really wanted to do. 

Instead, you just put your hand on his shoulder and shoved him away from you. You didn’t put too much force behind it; it was playful enough to throw him off balance, but not enough to make him fall. The elevator doors dinged and opened and you walked out, not even sparing him a second look. He caught up with you, walking side by side with you through the hallway.

“What was that for?” he asked. You reached your arm out and pushed him again, not even bothering to answer his question. You hid a smile as you did so. It was kind of fun to be annoying. He caught his balance and then bounced back next to you.

“No seriously, what are you-”

You reached to push him again, but he caught your wrist in his hand, using that as leverage to pull you close. He wrapped his other arm around your waist, keeping you pressed against him even as you tried to wriggle out of his grasp. When you realized it was a futile fight, you looked up at his face. You had expected him to be laughing or something, but he looked dead serious.

“Now,” he said in a low voice, “I don’t want you doing something you’ll regret.”

“Or what?”

“Or you’ll have to be punished.”

It sent shivers down your spine, the way he said that. You were really into whatever he was doing right now, and you didn’t want it to stop. You wanted to see how far he would actually take it.

“Is that a promise?” you asked. He raised his eyebrows surprisedly. He probably hadn’t expected you to play back. 

“Only if you want it to be.”

“Alright then. Give me my hand back.”

He let go and you held your pinky out, crossing your pinky with his. You then stuck your thumb out and kissed it, and he looked at you quizzically before doing the same hesitantly. Had he never done a pinky swear before?

“Now it’s a promise,” you said, smiling at him. He smiled back. He really was adorable.

“We should go to bed,” he said after a moment. “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. He let go of your waist, and you missed the feeling of his warmth on your body. He walked you to your door. You hesitated, wondering if you would kiss you here. It was a hotel hallway in the middle of the night, it wasn’t like anyone would see you. But your coworker’s rooms surrounded you, and somehow kissing Spencer on the lips here felt more intimate than being held in his embrace one hallway over.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss you on the forehead. “Sleep well.”

You smiled.

“Sweet dreams, Spencer.”

He ruffled the hair at the top of your head and smiled, walking to his room for the night. You couldn’t stop thinking about him when you were trying to go to sleep that night. You had kissed him a few times now, but both of them were from moments of high tension. Did he really want to kiss you? You almost rolled your eyes at yourself. Of course he did. He wouldn’t have challenged you if he thought you wouldn’t actually do it. He had created these situations himself. It was clear that he was interested in you.

Not just interested sexually, either. He was looking out for you, mentally and physically. He had been there for you when you were going through rough times, he had comforted you, helped you home when you were drunk. But you hadn’t realized until this case the little things he would do. Reid was always asking you if you wanted something to eat, and he grabbed cups of water or water bottles for you _all the time_. You got so busy, you had a tendency to sometimes go hungry or dehydrate yourself because you just forgot. You had done that a lot when you started with the team, but it hadn’t happened for awhile. You realized he had been doing this for months, you had just never really noticed.

That made your heart happy. He really cared about you. But this also opened the door for more conversation. What had you done for him? It made sense that he was confused with your behavior; he had been trying to tell you this whole time without words that he cared, but you were so wrapped up in yourself and your own issues that you had just ignored him. 

You felt bad. Grand gestures were not really your thing. If you wanted to make a difference, if you really wanted to show him that you cared, you were going to have to go outside of yourself, think more about him and the things that he likes and wants and needs. He hadn’t been doing these things for you for any credit, he had been doing them to genuinely help you. Constantly looking for situations to “return the favor” wasn’t the way to go. It had to be natural and genuine, not a way to suddenly make up for months of his thoughtfulness.

You sighed and rolled around in your hotel bed, trying to get comfortable. Making that choice came with its own set of problems. If you decided to give in, if you decided to take this as far as it could go, what would that mean for your job? You doubted that Hotch would let the both of you continue to work in the profiling unit with this conflict of interest. You and Spencer had both made this job your lives. But he had been with the profiling unit longer than you. He had seniority. If anyone was going to leave, it was going to be you. You laid in bed for a long while after that, trying to decide if you were willing to give up your career for the man three doors down.

-

You had been right the whole time. The seriousness of the case made you rethink the timing of rubbing it in Spencer’s face, so you decided to hold off taunting him until everyone got on the jet. 

“Reid.”

You broke the silence, calling to him from the opposite side of the jet. He and everyone else looked over at you. You weren’t usually one for public declarations.

“Don’t you have something you’d like to say?”

Emily oooh’d, JJ stifled a laugh, and Morgan started to cackle from his seat. Aaron and David just watched with small smiles on their faces. And Spencer? He opened his mouth and shut it again, blushing lightly as he realized all attention was on him.

“Um… you were right.”

“And?”

Morgan laughed as Spencer tried to compose himself.

“And what?” he replied. He looked irritated.

“What else do you have to say?”

He sighed annoyedly.

“I’m sorry for arguing with you.”

You gave him a smug smile.

“No problem, Spencer,” you replied smugly. “You’re forgiven.”

You knew you were antagonizing him. It was one thing to do this to him privately, but embarrassing him in public, in front of your coworkers? You couldn’t resist it. Though you would probably never admit it, some small part of you knew what was going to happen next. You were all walking into the office from the jet when he came up from behind you, hand on your shoulder.

“My place,” he said quickly under his breath. He squeezed your shoulder tightly, almost to the point of hurting, and then let go. He went to catch up with JJ while you hung back trying to catch your breath. He wasn’t asking you to come over; he was commanding.

Fuck. 

You tried to act normal on the long walk to your car. You even took some extra time to drive slowly to get there, butterflies in your stomach the entire way. You were sure you’d get there before he did because of the trains he took, but to your surprise he walked up at the same time you did. He let you into the building without a word, and you followed him up the stairs. Your heart was beating so fast. What was he going to do? He held the door open for you and you stepped in. You tried to make eye contact as you did so, but he wasn’t looking at you. 

“You can have a seat,” he said. You made your way to his armchair, the one you knew he liked, and sat. This was weird. He grabbed a glass of water, handed it to you, and then sat on the couch across from you. He looked straight into your eyes and then started before you could speak.

“You’re here because you want to have sex with me, yes?”

You flushed. He was being extremely forward. Also, what a weird way to put it. You would have laughed if you weren’t so nervous.

“Uh, I mean-”

“Yes or no.”

“Yes.”

“Are you on birth control?”

“Yes.”

“Condoms or no?”

“Preferably, but not always a requirement. Depends on the situation.”

“And when was your last blood test?”

“When I got stabbed.”

You said it like a joke. He wasn’t even phased.

“Have you had any sexual partners since then?”

“Are you asking me if I have an STD?”

“I’m asking to make sure we both stay safe.”

You leaned forward in your chair.

“I don’t have unprotected sex with someone unless I know and trust them, and if they don’t have any other current sexual partners.”

“Noted. We can get into kinks later, but is there currently anything you won’t do?”

 _Kinks?_ You choked on the sip of water you had just taken. He watched as you coughed, trying to regain your composure.

“Um,” you spluttered, “there’s really not much that I draw a hard line at. We can discuss it beforehand if you think there would be a problem.”

“Alright. Do you want any kids in the future?”

He was trying to kill you.

“Honestly, I don’t see it in the cards for myself right now. Do you? Want kids, I mean.”

He paused.

“Maybe. I have a few more questions for you, and then we’ll be done.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“What are you hoping to gain from this? Is this going to be a long-term arrangement for you, or just a one-time thing? Will we be exclusive to each other? Do you want more than sex? And if you do want more than that, how would you like to handle the repercussions of our work relationship? Take as much time as you need to think about this.”

These were things you had already thought about somewhat. But thinking about it on your own and actually saying it out loud in front of someone else were two different things. 

“Are my responses allowed to change over time depending on how I feel?”

“Absolutely. This is about creating a safe and healthy environment for the both of us, and that involves making sure we set boundaries and establish what we want so that we don’t get confused later. Is that alright?”

“Yeah, absolutely. To start off, I’m not sure if I want long or short term. I think it depends on how this goes. As far as exclusivity… I mean I have Audrey but that’s a bit of an unconventional situation. Do you want to be exclusive? Does my relationship with Audrey affect that?”

“I usually am exclusive. I won’t ask you to stop your relationship with Audrey right now, that’s your own business. But if you want more than sex, it would make me more comfortable if you readjusted things with her. You don’t have to stop contact completely, but the sexual aspect… I would appreciate being the only person who can see that. Would you want more than sex?”

Your heart started to race. Did you?

“I don’t know. I think so. Can I wait on that one?”

“Of course you can. And work?”

“I think… if it’s just sexual, no feelings, we can keep things the way they are. But anything else… I mean if feelings get involved… I think one of us will have to leave. I don’t think Hotch would allow it. And if things happen to go south, it wouldn’t have any effect on our work.”

He nodded.

“I think you’re right. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Not at the moment, no. Do you want to… get started now?”

You flushed when you asked him. You were literally asking him for sex. If someone had told you that you would ask him eventually, you would have laughed. But there was something about him, something about the way that he looked at you, the way he touched you, the way he kissed you. There was something almost irresistible about him, and no matter how much you fought it, or even fought him, you had a feeling that you would have ultimately ended up here anyways.

“Absolutely not,” he said, smiling at you. That shook you out of your mind. 

“What? But-”

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this right.”

He stood up, offering his hand to you. You looked at him quizzically but rose up next to him. He ushered you to the door.

“Tomorrow at 7pm work?”

“What?”

“Can you meet me here, tomorrow, at 7:00 pm?”

“Uh, yeah. I can.”

“Alright. Dress casually. I’ll see you soon.”

Your head was in a whirl. He was making you leave? What did he have planned for tomorrow?

“O-okay,” you replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Y/N?”

You turned back to him and he leaned down to give you a chaste kiss on the lips.

“Drive safely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise y'all, next chapter is THE chapter. The wait will definitely be worth it! We just had to get some exposition in there first. See you soon!


	21. Date Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! Thank you so much for your patience! I've been really under the weather lately, so I wrote most of this chapter while on NyQuil, hella strong ibuprofen, and antibiotics. We made it, though!
> 
> Not gonna lie, I felt absolutely _filthy_ while writing this chapter, so I hope you feel the same when you read it. Enjoy! :)

Jeans and a nice shirt were casual enough, right? A dressy loose button down and some comfortable but cute shoes seemed like it was enough. You knocked on Spencer’s door, butterflies in your stomach. He answered the door and stepped out, locking it behind himself.

“You ready?” he asked. He was dressed similarly to you, comfortable jeans and a nice button down.

“Uh, yeah.”

You were confused. Wasn’t this sex? Was he taking you somewhere to do something to you, or…?

“Dinner first,” he said, reading your mind.

“Okay. Lead the way,” you said. You followed him outside, and the two of you started walking down the street.

You were making it awkward. You knew you were. You were having a hard time figuring out what to do, what to say. You were happy to be here with him, but this dynamic was so different from work where the two of you didn’t really connect on a personal level. You realized that going any further than sex meant that Spencer would have to actually get to _know_ you as a person, and that thought was kinda terrifying. Obviously, he knew the little things, like how you liked your coffee, and he knew about the current things like your accident. But one day he might know about your family, maybe meet them. He might know about the shenanigans in college, or the specific recipe you like to use when you bake cookies, or your favorite restaurants and what you order there, or-

“What are you thinking?” he asked, lightly putting his hand on your lower back to draw your attention to the present.

“Nothing, really.”

He stopped you on the sidewalk, pulling you to the side with him to get you out of the way of other pedestrians.

“Hey,” he said seriously, tilting your chin up so that you had to look at him. “Do you want to go back? We don’t have to do this if you’re having second thoughts. We can forget all about it, if you want.”

You didn’t want that at all.

“No, I do want to be here. I’m just… scared.”

“Of?”

“Getting close, I think.”

“That’s okay. Do you want to just go back to my place? We don’t have to have dinner together if you don’t want to. We can cancel everything if it’ll make you more comfortable.”

“No, I’m hungry. I want to eat with you.”

“Okay. If at any time you want to leave, let me know. And please, relax. This isn’t a make or break night, you know that, right? We’re simply two friends going out to dinner. We can make it more than that when we get home if you’d like, but for now it’s just dinner. No strings attached. Does that work for you?”

You breathed a sigh of relief. That was what you needed to hear. There was no pressure. It was just dinner with a friend. That’s all. 

“Yeah, that works for me.”

He smiled. He steered you back onto the main part of the sidewalk, starting a conversation about the latest French movie he had seen. You hadn’t seen it- you rarely watched foreign films these days- but it was sweet that he had remembered you liked French film.

“Here’s the place,” he finally said. It was an old diner. Huh. You understood why he asked you to dress casually. You really liked diner food, actually. You were interested to see what about this place made him happy.

“Spencer!” 

The older waitress greeted him. She seemed to be in her early fifties at least. She came to hug him, a grin on her face, and he hugged her back smiling.

“Hey, Linda.”

“The usual table for you?”

She suddenly caught sight of you.

“Oh, you brought a friend? What’s your name, sweetie?”

You told her your name and she smiled, looking over at Spencer and then back to you.

“Well, I’m so glad we finally get to meet some of Spencer’s friends. We worry about him when he’s gone.”

You laughed a little.

“Don’t worry, Linda. We take care of him when he’s not here,” you replied. Spencer turned to look at you surprisedly and you just smiled back up at him.

“Of course. I’ll get a menu for you, dear. Spencer, do you want the usual?”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied. She led you to his usual table and the both of you sat. It was a two-seater table in the back corner, a place where you could see the entire restaurant. You knew the kind of person Spencer was, you knew he would want the seat where he could see the room instead of the seat that faced the wall. You were going for the seat you knew he didn’t want when he cleared his throat at you, pulling out the chair for the seat you knew he liked.

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I know you like to see the whole room.”

“I see the same thing every time. The only view I need is right here,” he replied smoothly. You blushed a little bit. Was he being serious, or was that a joke? You took the seat he offered and he sat across from you. You opened the menu, trying to figure out what you wanted.

“What’s your usual? Should I get it, too?”

“I come here for comfort food. I like the chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes, with a side of broccoli. The burgers are pretty good too, though.”

“No, I think I’ll have what you get. I want the full experience, don’t I?”

Linda came over, setting down glasses of water.

“Would you like anything else to drink? Are you ready to order?”

Spencer looked over at you.

“No, I think I’m okay with the water. I’ll have what he’s having,” you replied, handing your menu over to her.

“Sounds great, sugar. That’ll be right out for ya.”

She beamed at you, turning away to go back into the kitchen. 

“So what about it is comforting to you? The food, I mean.”

He shrugged.

“I really like mashed potatoes and gravy. And the ones here kind of remind me of when I was a kid.”

“Any other comfort foods you like?”

“Yeah. Box mac and cheese, vending machine foods, homemade chocolate milk. Stuff like that.”

Huh.

The conversation at dinner was really nice. You asked Spencer a lot of questions, things like the books he enjoyed the most, his favorite things he studied in college, music he listened to at home or in the car. He asked you the same, but you preferred to spend the time talking about him. He had already put in the time and work to get to know you and the things you liked. You wanted to do the same for him. 

You enjoyed the meal a lot. He was right, in that it really was comfort food. You thought a lot about how Linda seemed like a mother figure to him. You stopped yourself there. You weren’t going to profile him at the dinner table. Instead, you chose to think about the different versions of Spencer there were. Did Linda even know he was a doctor? Did she even know what his job was? Or was he just a man who came here often for the comfort and familiarity of friendship and a good meal?

-

Spencer decided to take the scenic route home to walk off dinner. You both plopped on the couch when you got back to his place. You sat on opposite ends of the couch, but you took off your shoes and threw your feet in his lap. He put on a documentary to play in the background, turning the volume down low so the two of you could continue talking. When he wasn’t being an absolute pain in the ass, he was honestly really fun to talk to. All of the little facts that he could pull out of his head made for more fun conversation, and it seemed he had endless material to choose from.

You wanted to believe that it had started innocently, but you knew exactly who you were dealing with. He started with a little foot massage. Nothing too intense; your feet were in his lap and you knew he had idle hands, so of course that’s what would happen. But then he moved up to your ankles, then your calves. You had started to get more distracted the further up he went, partially because of how good it felt, but also because you knew what was going to happen if he didn’t stop.

He could tell, too. As your replies became shorter and further in between, his hands worked harder, moving further up. Eventually, he stopped completely at your knees and you looked over at him, pouting a little bit. 

“What?” he asked playfully, smirking a little. “Did you want more?”

You looked away from him, opting to stare at the television.

“Maybe.”

“Yes or no?”

“I said maybe.”

You weren’t going to let him win. The second you admitted you wanted something, the game would be over. And you liked to play games. Before you could even process what was happening, Spencer leaned over onto your side of the couch, taking hold of your jaw and turning your head to face him. His eyes were intense.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you. I asked you, yes or no?”

Your stomach flipped.

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Then beg for it.”

No no no, you couldn’t do it. He would win if you did. You decided to flip his own script onto him.

“Make me.”

He leaned even closer to you so that his face was inches away from yours, his hand still firm on your jaw.

“Believe me when I say this; only one of us will be begging tonight, and it won’t be me.”

He let go of you, moving back to where he had been seated on the couch before. It was as if nothing had even happened. You were looking at him, breathing heavily, heart fluttering, and he was nonchalantly sitting there watching tv as if he didn’t do what he just did.

“That’s not fair,” you said breathlessly, still looking at him. 

“Nothing is fair,” he stated, not even taking his eyes off of the screen. You frowned, pulling your feet out of his lap. He pretended he didn’t even notice. You moved over to his side of the couch, taking his face in your hands and turning his head to face you.

“How about _you_ look at _me_ when I’m talking to you?”

He smirked at you, bringing his hands to encircle your wrists.

“I don’t think that’s how this works, sweetheart.”

He used his leverage to push you backwards onto the couch, holding your wrists above your head. He situated himself so that he was straddling you, looking down at the shocked expression on your face.

“Here’s how it’s going to work,” he said. “You’re going to do what I tell you to do. No questions asked. Do you have a safe word you would like to use, just in case?”

You weren’t unfamiliar with bdsm, and he said he wasn’t going to get into kinks today, but you were appreciative that he was asking you anyways. It showed that he wanted to you to feel safe at all times, even in situations that he might not think were threatening. 

“Squash,” you blurted. His tough persona broke for just a moment, his seriousness replaced by mirth. He grinned at you.

“Squash? What?”

“Well… they’re yellow,” you replied, blushing. He was seriously making fun of you for this, of all things?

“Well why not say yellow? Do you have a word you would like to use for red? Tomatoes, maybe?”

You blushed even more.

“It was apple, actually.”

He started laughing at you.

“Fruits and vegetables? Really?”

“Stop laughing!” you protested, squirming under his grasp. His amusement was contagious though, and both of you ended up sitting there laughing for quite awhile. One of you would start to settle down and the other would start giggling again, leading to another fit of laughter. 

“Alright, squash and apple. I can remember that. Anything else? Any second thoughts, any concerns?”

“No second thoughts. Also, this sounds weird but… I don’t really like spit. Can we maybe not do anything involving that? Like spitting in my mouth or on my body. We can do it later if we get comfortable, but right now, since this is new... maybe no spitting.”

“I can definitely accommodate that. I’m not really the spitting type anyway. Germs, you know.”

You chuckled. Even through his tough front, you could still see bits of the normal Spencer.

“Sounds good,” you said, smiling. He shifted so that one of his hands was still holding your wrists above your head while the other trailed down to your face, cupping your cheek and tracing your lips with his thumb. He leaned down ever so slowly to kiss you softly. You kissed him back, playfully nipping at his lip when you got the chance. You felt him smile against your lips and his free hand trailed down again to pick at the buttons on your shirt. He had gotten them off in no time, trailing his hand up your stomach to your bra, deepening the kiss as he went.

You were getting a little hot and bothered by the special treatment, so you ground your hips up against his, trying to get a reaction out of him. He was going too slow, and you wanted more. As if he was reading your mind, he pulled back to take a good look at you.

“Impatient, are we?”

“No,” you lied. You wiggled your hips, trying to get him to do something, anything, but he just looked down at you, still as a statue.

“Are you lying to me?”

The serious look in his eyes and the way his voice dipped into a lower octave had you undeniably wet.

“What if I am?”

“If I remember correctly, we made a promise, didn’t we? That you were going to be punished?”

Your stomach dropped. You had almost forgotten about that. 

“What about it?” you replied, your mouth dry.

“I think that lying would be an addition to the score against you. Do you agree?”

“Who said I was lying?”

“I _said_ -” he pinched one of your nipples through your bra “-do you agree?”

“Yes,” you gasped.

“Good girl.”

Oh, fuck. You just about melted when he called you that. He knew it, too. From the look in his eyes, he had been waiting on your reaction. You realized very quickly that he had probably planned this entire evening out, from the moment you showed up at his door to the moment you would leave. He already knew what he was going to do to you, had probably already scripted it out in his head, and you were just along for the ride. The thought gave you chills, that no matter what you had thought was going to happen, you were ultimately going to surrender yourself to the experience that he had planned for you.

He was watching you think it through, the faintest hint of a smirk on his face. It was like he knew exactly what you would think and when you would think it. You came back to the idea that you were the one playing checkers, living moment to moment, while he was the one playing chess. Unless you explicitly stated it, unless you didn’t want to participate, he was the one in control. Not only that, but he had taken all the time in the world to plan what he wanted to do to you, what he wanted to say to drive you crazy, while you had been too nervous to even think about it. This was the big moment he had been waiting for, where you put it all together, and he had the satisfaction of getting to watch.

“How long have you been setting this up?” you asked.

“After the night I took you home from the bar. You told me I was pretty.”

You groaned as he smiled cheekily at you. Of course you would let something slip while you were drunk.

“And then you kissed me.”

“That’s not very fair!” you protested. “You set me up on that one!”

“Maybe I did, but you were still the one to kiss me first. Then you practically _begged_ me to kiss you again.”

You flushed.

“I did _not!_ ”

“No? So you’re saying you don’t want me to kiss you anymore?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“That’s not what I said.”

“So… you want me to kiss you? Do you want me to do more than that, too?”

He was running his free hand up and down your body, his fingertips tracing over your skin lightly and leaving goosebumps in their wake. You knew what he was trying to do.

“Enough with the foreplay,” you said, bucking your hips up to grind against his. He took his hand and used it to hold your pelvis against the cushions. You were fighting him so much, you were sure it was going to leave a bruise or two on your skin.

“We’re done when I say we’re done,” he said, moving his face down to kiss at your neck and chest. He took his sweet time, his warm lips and soft hair tickling your skin. You took that as your cue to squirm underneath him as violently as you could. If you weren’t going to get what you wanted, you were going to annoy him so much that he would relent and give it to you anyways. 

Spencer pulled away from you, sighing frustratedly and frowning. He stood up, and before you could get up yourself, he was dragging you up in front of him, holding your wrists behind your back. If this is what it felt like to be an unsub, you probably wouldn’t mind it so much. He pushed you towards the bedroom, shoving you lightly at his bed. You bounced on top of the covers and then he was on you again.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked through gritted teeth as he tore off your shirt and jeans. You didn’t bother to answer, reaching to unbutton his shirt while he worked at his belt. His jeans were off, and before you got a chance to look at him closely he was grabbing your hips, moving you to the center of the bed. He kissed your lips before kissing even further down, dragging his hands from your breasts to your hips until they caught at the sides of your panties, his breath hot on your thighs. He peered up at you from the foot of the bed, his silent question hanging in the air.

“Yes,” you whispered. 

He smiled and tugged your underwear off, throwing them into some random corner in the room. You didn’t even have time to be embarrassed about how you looked; Spencer had already peeled your thighs apart and began eating you out as if it was his last meal.

“Oh!” 

One of your hands flew to his hair, the other fisting the sheets underneath you. His tongue was so warm. He would circle your entrance before licking at your folds again, barely even touching your clit before repeating the cycle. You were already crazy wet down there to begin with, and he only made it worse. Without warning, one of his fingers slowly entered you, followed shortly by another. This wasn’t unhurried like the last time; he had started to finger you slowly but he was picking up the pace. He was almost going too fast. You were going to cum too quickly if you weren’t careful.

Rather than stick to your clit, he moved his mouth to your thighs, nipping lightly. You were sure you’d have little marks but they’d probably fade in a matter of days. You were trying not to moan so loudly, keeping the sounds to small whimpers just in case the walls were thin here. Your chest was heaving with the effort though, trying not to pant so loud as to distract him. Spencer was having none of that. He reached forward and pinched one of your nipples through your bra.

“I can’t hear you.”

That was hot.

“But Spencer, I-”

He used that moment to suck on your clit, rolling it underneath his tongue. You moaned loudly, closing your eyes and tugging at his hair.

“Fuck!”

He drew his mouth away, his fingers still working in and out of you.

“Are you gonna cum for me?”

You looked down at him, blushing profusely.

“Wh- what?”

“I _said_ , are you going to cum for me?”

He punctuated his sentence with each thrust of his fingers. You knew that if he kept going like this, if he put his mouth on your clit again, you were going to lose it. You nodded at him, flustered and breathless. He turned and bit your inner thigh. The pain mixed with the pleasure was just enough to make you moan loudly again. You were so close.

“Answer me! Yes or no?”

“Yes! Yes!” 

You were almost desperate at this point. He curled his fingers inside of you, moving his mouth to lick and suck at your clit until you orgasmed, spasming around the fingers that were still inside of you. You relaxed against the mattress, sweaty and blissed out. But Spencer wasn’t done. He kept his mouth on your clit, still going hard as if you hadn’t just come all over his fingers. The overstimulation was too much, it was starting to hurt. You whimpered, trying to wiggle out of his reach. He looked up at you, grabbing your hips and pulling them towards himself to keep them in place. 

“Remember when I said you were going to be punished?”

He kept going, even as you protested.

“Spencer, please! I can’t!”

You felt the desperation in your chest. The feeling was threatening to overwhelm you. All you could think about was the way his fingers gripped into the soft flesh of your hips, his tongue moving so fast against you that it almost hurt but it felt _so_ good you were close to tears, you didn’t want him to stop but you couldn’t take it, you just couldn’t. And then you came again on his tongue, throwing your head back and crying out before you could stop yourself. 

Your mind was a blur, dizziness and bliss, feeling like your body could melt. You lost track of Spencer but there he was, sidled up next to you. You watched with hooded eyes as he wiped your juices off of his mouth with his hand before leaning in to kiss you. The taste of yourself on his tongue was strange, but not something you hadn’t experienced before. Your eyes threatened to close, you were so spent.

“You’re not going to fall asleep on me, are you?”

You shook your head.

“No, I just need a minute.”

“Okay. Take all the time you need.”

While you tried to gather yourself and your thoughts, he spent that time brushing your hair away from your face, smoothing it out on the pillows beneath you. When he had finished that, he moved his face into the crook of your neck, tracing over your skin with his soft lips. Eventually you were ready for him, reaching around to pull his face up to yours, kissing him softly. He smiled against your lips.

“Are you ready?”

It sounded like a dare.

“Whenever you are.”

“Sit up for me,” he said. You did so wordlessly, and he reached around to take your bra off. He still had his underwear on, and you looked down at them and up at his face questioningly. He locked eyes with you but ignored your confused look, opting to guide you back down on the bed. He turned around to reach into his nightstand drawer to pull out a condom. You watched as he shimmied out of his boxers, throwing them somewhere into the room behind him. Yep. He was just as big as you remembered.

“Excuse me, my eyes are up here,” he said playfully. You looked back up at his face and kept eye contact with him as he moved on top of you, straddling your hips. He slowly put the condom on and you gripped the sheets and rubbed your thighs together, trying to release the tension of your anticipation while also trying not to stare at his dick. You spared a look down, but one of his hands caught your jaw and tilted it up so that you couldn’t peek. His face was serious.

“You’re going to look me in the eyes while I fuck you. Do you understand?”

That sent chills down your spine. You nodded at him, and he pushed his fingers into the flesh of your cheeks. He moved one of your legs aside and used the leverage of his thighs to lift your hips slightly, giving him a better angle to rub his dick against your folds, catching at your entrance but never fully giving you the satisfaction that you wanted. 

“Use your words. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t hear you.”

You frowned. He could hear you, you knew he could. But he was distracting you so much, you couldn’t think of anything to say to him. No witty comeback, no argument, nothing. All you could do was look into his eyes and repeat yourself, because that’s what would give you what you wanted.

“Yes!” you said firmly.

“Good.”

He pressed his dick slowly into you and you bit your lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he affected you. But his hand was still on your jaw, and he used his thumb to tug your lip out from under your teeth. You tried to maintain eye contact, you really did, but your eyes started to flutter shut the further he went inside you. The stretch just felt so _good_. He stopped suddenly and you opened your eyes to look at him, wondering why he wasn’t moving. The second you made eye contact, he started to move again. So that’s the game he was playing at. 

He was dragging his cock slowly in and out of you, taking his sweet fucking time. You gave him a defiant look, deciding to move your hands up and down his torso, scratching his skin just enough to leave little marks, but not enough to last more than a few hours. Perhaps he would get the hint. He smirked at you but kept his leisurely pace.

Ugh! You couldn’t take this anymore. You bucked your hips up at him.

“Move.”

“Make me.”

You grabbed at his shoulders to push him off, trying to sit up and go for a power play. Maybe you could even get on top if you fought hard enough. But he was on you faster than you could comprehend, and he slammed you back down onto the pillows, one hand holding himself up while the other was wrapped around your neck. The both of you froze. You were sure the surprised look on his face was mirrored your own. He hadn’t applied any pressure, but he had sunk his fingers lightly into your skin. It was a threat, but you knew he wouldn’t actually do it unless you told him he could. You finally broke the silence.

“I bet you won’t.”

He grinned at you devilishly.

“I’m from Vegas, sweetheart. I never lose a bet.”

He started to fuck you again, this time a little faster. He squeezed at your jugular vein, making you lightheaded. You knew that you weren’t actually out of breath, that it was just the illusion of his hands around your neck, but you were gasping for air anyways. Your brain felt like it was in a fog of pleasure and even a little pain. All you could do was lie there, clutching at his arms to keep yourself grounded to something. Every time you would look away or close your eyes, Spencer would let up on you so you could breathe, reminding you every time in that low voice of his to stay focused and to look at him. You would look him in the eyes, get a breath or two of fresh air, and then he was back at it again, fucking you a little harder each time. It felt like he was hitting parts inside of you that you’d never even dreamt of before.

You were getting close, you could feel it. You knew he was too, by the way he was panting and fisting the sheets beside you, his rhythm starting to become almost erratic. You decided to try to tip him over the edge, reaching behind him to scrape your nails harshly across his back. He gasped and then moaned loudly, closing his eyes for a brief moment before looking again at you. It was the first time you had heard him moan like that, so wantonly, and it made your pussy clench around him. He grinned down at you, his pace starting to become steady again.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asked, panting. You didn’t even need to respond; he knew the answer. For the first time since he had entered you, he broke eye contact, leaning down so that his mouth was to your ear. You could feel the sweat from his forehead on your cheek, his quick breath hot against your neck. Without warning, he started to groan into your ear, quietly at first. But then he was getting louder, and you could feel the vibrations in your chest. You swore it made you even wetter, and judging from the scandalous sounds of his hips against yours, it probably was.

It was one of the most erotic things you had ever heard. You were panting, trying to keep your cool, but his hand slipped from your neck to your clit and began to move in fast circles. You whimpered at first, but he bit harshly at your ear until you were moaning alongside him. You were trying so hard to cum, your hips bucking upwards. But then his hips started to slow significantly, his fingers at your clit stopping completely, and you let out a cry of disappointment, digging your nails into his shoulders. He moved his hand to your face again, forcing you to once again stare up at him.

“One more time. I want to see the look on your face when you come on my cock.”

You could feel yourself flushing. You had never heard him say anything so filthy like that. You looked up at him, squirming under his grip, breathing heavily. And then he started to move again. Before, his pace had been on the slower side, but mostly steady. But right now, he was erratic and relentless, his fingers working persistently on your clit. It was so overwhelming, going from nothing to everything within the blink of an eye that you were seeing stars before you knew it, your body tensing up and then relaxing against his. He only lasted a few strokes after you, gasping loudly as he came. He pulled out of you and collapsed on the bed beside you, throwing his arm across your stomach as the both of you laid there, trying to catch your breath. 

You would never admit it to him, but that was probably the best fuck of your life. You were so out of it, and you knew you were going to be sore later. Your legs felt like jelly, and you knew you’d have trouble walking. You were starting to drift off when he shook you back to the present.

“You need to go pee,” he said. You laughed. Of course Spencer would be the one to ruin your post-sex naptime with the reminder that you could get a UTI. 

“We should probably shower, too,” he said. You agreed. The both of you were so sweaty, you were sure he was going to have to change the sheets before you slept on them. _If_ you were even going to spend the night. 

He hopped up out of bed, going to turn the shower on in the bathroom. He popped his head back into the bedroom to see if you were coming. You swung your legs over the side of the bed, stood up, and then immediately plopped back down on the sheets, your legs too shaky to support you. He chuckled, walking over to offer you his hand. 

“You wanna try that again?”

“Shut up,” you laughed, taking his hand. You stood up and he held his other hand to your lower back, keeping a nice grip on you as he helped you onto the toilet. He stepped into the shower while you did your business, and then you joined him a moment later. He washed your hair for you, and even bent down to let you wash his. Afterwards, he wrapped you snug in a towel and led you to the comfy chair in the corner of his room while he grabbed some clothes for the both of you and changed the sheets on the bed. You got dressed when he left the room, and when he came back he had two glasses of water in his hands.

“Bed first,” he said, ushering you to lie down on the fresh covers. He handed you a cup, and then moved to the other side of the bed. He drank his water and watched you drink yours too before throwing the blankets over the both of you, settling down underneath them. You scooted lower so that you were lying there next to him, the both of you staring at each other. You honestly didn’t know what to say. Before you could think of anything, he twisted around to turn his bedside lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. You heard him moving underneath the sheets, and then he threw an arm around your waist. 

You smiled softly, turning over to face the opposite direction so that he could spoon you properly. For the first time in awhile, you felt warm. Safe. He whispered your name in the dark, his breath tickling the hair at the top of your head.

“Yeah?” you whispered back.

“Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams, Spencer.”


	22. Sleepovers and Brunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, friends! It may take some extra time for me to update after this chapter (probably like a week), I have some family stuff to attend to. SO this chapter is a little bit longer and a little bit spicy, just for you! I've also got some other works in progress, so I'm taking some time to have fun with those. I probably wont post any of them until this story is done, but it's something to keep an eye out for in the future! Love you lots!

You were awoken by the sound of Spencer’s alarm going off. You turned around to face him, getting a good look at his back as he leaned over to turn it off. He grabbed his glasses off of the bedside table and put them on, rolling around to look back at you. His hair was fabulously messy, the dark circles under his eyes a little lighter today.

This feeling came over you, a bubbly warmth in your chest. You didn’t even think about it; you just leaned in to kiss him, your hand on his cheek. He kissed you back enthusiastically, his hands going to your hair. His glasses bumped against your face but you didn’t mind. You weren’t usually this ready to go first thing in the morning, but something about an amazing night’s sleep and the safety of his arms made you feel some type of way.

You weren’t always this presumptuous, and perhaps it was the brain fog of recently waking up, but you pushed him backwards, throwing your leg around him so that you were on top, straddling his hips. He used his hands in your hair to pull your face away from his, a grin on his lips.

“Good morning,” he said in that croaky morning voice of his.

“Hi,” you smiled back, leaning in to kiss him again. He tugged on your hair to pull you away again.

“You’re going to be late to the office. You should go home and get ready for the day.”

“We must have _some_ time, right?”

He laughed.

“I set my alarms to maximize the amount of sleep I get every night. If I stay in this bed any longer with you, I’ll be late, too. Trains. And I’m not sure if both of us being late on the same day would look good, considering neither of us are usually late at all.”

Of course he would do something like that. He was right though, and both of you knew it. You sighed, rolling off of him onto your back. Damn. He chuckled, leaning over to pull your face to his. He kissed you, this time softly.

“We have plenty of time for that later, okay?”

Your stomach flipped a little. He wanted to do this again, too?

“Okay,” you relented. He got out of bed and you followed suit. You hunted around for your clothes from last night while he disappeared into his closet. He reappeared in that dark violet button down that you absolutely loved, his black tie loose around his neck. And he wore those tight pants, the black ones that showed off his ass so well. Oof. He was trying to kill you.

You grabbed your keys and purse and he walked you to his door, grabbing his bag as well. Before you walked out the door, you turned to him.

“Spencer?”

He raised his eyebrows at you questioningly.

“What do we do? Like at work. Pretend this never happened? Or…?”

“Not pretend but… let’s not mention it.”

“Well yeah,” you rolled your eyes. “I mean do we act any different?”

“No. If we want this to progress naturally, at least in the eyes of everyone else, we have to build this from the ground up. We’re not exactly friendly at work, are we? Nobody can know about this until we’re sure, but we can be a little bit more talkative at the office if you would like.”

“Okay. I can get behind that,” you said. It was almost thrilling, in a way. You had seen a side of Spencer that none of your coworkers knew about. He had done some filthy things to you, and you were about to walk in and act like nothing had ever happened. It was hard to keep secrets from a group like the profiling unit, but it looked like you and Spencer might be able to pull off the best con there was.

“Y/N?”

You looked up at him.

“Yeah?”

“Just making sure, are you comfortable with continuing with this?”

“I had a lot of fun, I think I would like to. Do you?”

“Absolutely.”

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and smiled. His enthusiasm was comforting to say the least.

“I’ll see you soon, then,” you said, turning to grab the door handle. If you were as late as he said you were going to be, you needed to hurry. As much as you had wanted to stay and spend time with him, you got anxious if you knew you weren’t going to be on time.

“Wait!”

You faced Spencer.

“What? We’re going to be late, aren’t we?”

He leaned down to give you a chaste kiss on the lips before pulling back to smile. 

“I couldn’t resist. Now, let’s go.”

He put his hand on your lower back and ushered you down the stairs.

“See you soon!” he called.

You texted Hotch to tell him you were going to be late. You couldn’t stop smiling on the drive home, and you realized something. You’d never seen Reid smile that much either. You knew this was the beginning of something new, it would just take some time to figure out what. The sex was awesome, of course, but there was something so comforting about having someone who understood you, who understood the life you live and the job you do.

It was refreshing, not having to explain what you did, or talk about how difficult it was to cope. He went through the exact same things as you, so you wouldn’t have to relive any experience you didn’t want to, because he knew. He knew it all. You didn’t have to go through the process of meeting someone new, the awkwardness of getting to know what kind of person they were. Even then, there were still so many things you could learn about him, learn from him. And for the first time in a long time, you were excited for that. 

-

You had wanted to spend more time with Spencer the following week, but work got in the way. The two of you started texting more though, simple things like good morning and good night, what you were eating for dinner, what you were doing in your free time before bed. You wanted to spend Saturday night as his place, but the girls had a pre-planned sleepover that you’d been dying to do for months. 

As much as you liked Spencer, you wanted to create a few boundaries for yourself, one of them being that you wouldn’t throw away your life or friendships just to spend time with him. If he wanted to continue doing… whatever it was that the two of you were doing, he was going to have to understand that you had your own life and that you needed at least a few shreds of independence. You wanted to give him space, too; you wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you were scared that if you got too close too soon, he would decide he didn’t want to stick around. And though it wasn’t much now, it still meant something to you.

Enough of Spencer, though. You checked your phone periodically, but tried to keep yourself in the moment. You wanted to have a good time with the girls. You were all a little wine drunk in Penelope’s living room already, playing one of those adult card games. It had started off pretty mild, talking about personal stuff, sometimes sex. But as the night went on, the saucier it got. Emily had showed everyone one of her nudes, Penny had to send Hotch an eggplant emoji out of context. It was your turn. JJ drew a card and laughed, reading it off to the group.

“Text “you up?” to the last person you hooked up with.”

The girls laughed, and you nervously laughed too.

“Okay, fine! Give me a sec.”

You pulled out your phone, opening your text thread with Spencer. You blushed. His last message to you had been one of encouragement.

_Have fun!_

You hesitated. You _could_ send something to Audrey instead. But no, the other girls put in the work and did embarrassing things, so you would have to do it too.

_You up?_

“Okay! I did it!” you declared, throwing your phone back in your pocket. The girls squealed.

“Bonus points if you tell us what they say back!” Emily laughed

Oh, no. 

“No, I really don’t think-”

“Do it! Do it!” Penny chanted.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, which raised another round of callbacks from the girls.

“Fine! Fine!”

You blushed profusely, trying to hide the contact info from JJ beside you so that she wouldn’t see who you were talking to.

_Of course. Everything alright?_

You bit back a sigh of relief. Thank god he wasn’t a hookup culture kind of person. He would have definitely-

_Did your night end early? I can come over, if you’d like. It’s technically later_

Your stomach flipped. Did he really want-?

“Read it!” JJ said, poking your shoulder. You read back his messages, trying to stay calm as you did so. The girls were all over it.

“He said ‘it’s technically later,’ does that mean you guys have future plans to get together?” Emily asked.

“Um… something like that.”

“Stop that! You never talk about stuff like this with us! Just share for once!” Penny pleaded.

You felt bad. She was right, and you all knew it. As long as you didn’t give away any specifying details, would it really hurt to tell them anything?

“Well… he’s very respectful,” you said. They ooh’d.

“And?” JJ asked impatiently.

“He’s very kind! And patient, and understanding. Overall a really decent guy. I hope to see him again soon, honestly.”

“Then what in the hell are you doing here?” Penny asked incredulously.

“What? I wanted to spend time with you guys!”

“Yeah, but you see us every day. Him, not so much,” said Emily.

If only they knew.

“It’s not like that, really-”

“Seriously, respectful _and_ understanding? With a job like ours? You need to go see him,” JJ said. “Trust me, it’s not easy, but you really should follow up with him. Especially if he’s asking to come over. He’s willing to go to _you_ , which is rare in times like these. Go. Pack it up.”

“No, honestly!” you protested. “I already had too much to drink, I can’t drive anyways. We were all going to stay here for the night! Plus, it’s not like we’ll have sex, he doesn’t want to do anything if either of us have had anything to drink.”

“That’s… actually really super sweet,” Penny said. 

“Yeah! He’s really a good guy, I like him quite a bit.”

“I see that smile on your face!” Emily chimed in. You blushed.

“How about,” JJ started, “you make plans with him to have brunch tomorrow morning? That way, we’ll still have fun tonight but you don’t lose him too quickly.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” you replied. You unlocked your phone.

_All good here! Did you want to do something tomorrow? Brunch at 11?_

His response was almost immediate.

_I would love to_

You smiled.

“Look’s like we’ll be having brunch tomorrow,” you said.

“Yes, girl! Get it! And tell us how it is after!”

You laughed.

“Of course, Penny.”

You looked down at your phone, shooting one more text before turning back to the girls.

_Sounds great! Can we meet at my place?_

On second thought…

_And tomorrow can be later, if you want_

-

You woke up on Penelope’s living room floor, swaddled in blankets. Your head hurt just a little bit and you could tell you were dehydrated, but overall felt fine. Your heart skipped a beat when you remembered what you had planned for the day. You grabbed your phone, checking the time. You were late.

If you were right, he was either on the train or walking to your place right now. You grabbed all of your things as quickly and silently as you could, dashing out of Penny’s apartment before the other girls woke up. You’d send a text in the group chat later. The second you were outside of the building, you called him.

He picked up almost immediately.

“Hey there!”

“Hey, Spence! I’m _so_ sorry, I woke up super late. I’m on my way now, but I think you’ll beat me there. There’s a key on the molding above the door, you can let yourself in.”

He chuckled.

“No worries. Did you have fun with the girls?”

“I did!” You hopped in your car, waiting for your phone to switch over to Bluetooth before continuing.

“We had a lot of wine, played card games and stuff. _Don’t_ tell anyone, but Em showed us her nudes. Very tasteful.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah!”

“Any chance I’ll get to see some of yours?”

His voice had dropped a little, and you felt a flutter in your stomach.

“Well… technically you already have.”

He went silent for a moment.

“I didn’t know you knew about that.”

“I literally found out the day it happened.”

“In my defense, you didn’t really hide them well.”

“I told you to bring your phone in and you didn’t!”

“You know I don’t really like to use technology.”

“Okay, hang up then. Bet you won’t.”

“You’re saying that to the guy who’s alone in your apartment? Just think of all the things I can do in here if I’m not occupied on the phone with you.”

“What, like jack off in my shower?”

It had slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it. It had been months and neither of you had ever acknowledged that moment. If you had thought his first silence was long, this one was even longer. Was he even on the line anymore?

“Hello?”

“I’m here,” he replied. There was something in his voice that you couldn’t quite pin down.

“Are you… mad? I was just joking, I promise.”

“On the contrary, I’m not mad at all. Can you do something for me, though?”

You resisted the urge to say “Anything.”

“What?”

“Hurry up.”

The line went dead. He did that on purpose… right? He said he wasn’t mad, but there was undeniably something wrong, or at least off. You pressed the gas pedal down further, anxiously this time, wondering what he could possibly be up to.

-

You half ran up the stairs, trying to catch your breath at the door before you unlocked it, walking into your apartment. Spencer was nowhere to be seen. The place was relatively small, there were only a few places he could really be hiding. You set your stuff down on the kitchen counter, creeping around as if he couldn’t hear you. You felt weird, sneaking around in your own home.

You opened the door to your room, expecting him to be lying on the bed. Nothing. Hm. Maybe he was in the bathroom? But the lights were off. You flicked them on anyways, peering into the doorway. Nope. You turned around to go back into your room and suddenly he was standing there. You jumped, letting out a startled yelp and placing your hand on your chest protectively.

“Fuck, Spencer!” you screeched. “Don’t do that!”

“Hi,” he said softly, moving forward to press his lips to yours. You were still out of breath, trying to readjust, but his hands were on your face and you couldn’t help but kiss him back. You broke away, starting to feel a little lightheaded.

“Give me a second,” you panted, trying to regain your composure. You weren’t ready to face him like this, you felt almost vulnerable. He smiled almost dreamily and cocked his head to the side, moving one of his hands to your hair. You felt him twisting it around his fingers, and then he was suddenly pulling you backwards, into the bathroom. 

“What are you-”

He used his leverage to bend you over the bathroom counter, your cheek pressed against the cool granite. You caught yourself with your hands, but they were pinned beneath your chest. Your makeup and hair products clattered onto the floor and into the sink, spilling everywhere. You weren’t even worried about it; all you could think about was Spencer’s hips pressed against your ass, his hard-on evident through his jeans. He leaned over you, his chest flush with your back and his lips ghosting across your ear.

“Is this okay?”

His voice sent shivers down your spine and you twitched, trying not to move but not being able to contain your excitement. You’d never had something like this happen to you before.

“Yeah,” you breathed, trying to calm yourself down. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest, thudding against the countertop beneath you. His hand was still twisted in your hair, the other gripping your hip possessively. Contrary to his rough touch, his voice was gentle when he addressed you.

“You can say the word at any time and I won’t be mad. You know that, right?”

“Yes, I know,” you replied. 

“Good.”

Still holding your head down, he rose up and used his free hand to work your leggings and panties off. You tried to help by shimmying your hips, trying to get them past your knees at least, but you heard a crack and then a split second later your brain registered the stinging on your ass. You jumped. Did he just… spank you?

“All good?”

“Yeah,” you whimpered. You couldn’t see him, your face pointed to the wall and your hair covering your eyes. You desperately wished you could though, just so you could know what was going on. You heard him undoing his jeans, the sound of the zipper on his pants driving you crazy. You could already feel yourself getting wet, and you wanted to do something, anything, to relieve yourself. But you knew that moving would probably grant you another hit, and you weren’t sure if you wanted that right now. 

It was maddening that he was quiet, too. You weren’t sure what he was thinking, what he wanted to do, or what he was going to do. Ever so slowly, you felt his fingers slip between your folds, moving forward to rub at your clit before circling back, spreading your juices around before wiping his fingers off on your inner thighs.

“Are you really this wet for me already?” he asked, leaning back down to nip at your ear. You could feel his breath wash over your neck and face. Peppermint. You inhaled.

_Smack_

He slapped your ass again and you yelped, trying to squirm out of reach. It stung a little bit, but not much. It surprised you more than made you uncomfortable. He used his body to hold you down, tugging at your hair as a reminder that he was still in control.

“Answer me.”

“Yes,” you replied quickly, trying to keep your voice steady. You were shaking already from anticipation, waiting for him to touch you, to do anything. He put his leg between yours and kicked your heels apart, making you spread your legs further, almost to the point of discomfort. 

Finally, _finally_ , you felt his dick part your folds, entering you slowly. You gasped, your body trying to adjust. He hadn’t prepared you at all. It didn’t quite hurt, but it was enough to make you whimper. He stopped, letting you get acclimated. You could feel yourself clenching around him.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “You take it so well.”

“Fuck,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut. You couldn’t help it. It was like he knew exactly what to say to make you melt. You felt almost overwhelmed, extremely sensitive to every piece of your hair in his hand, the way his fingers pressed into the flesh of your hips, how hard he was inside of you. You wanted to move but couldn’t, opting to bite your lip instead to keep yourself from fidgeting.

“Fuck? You want me to fuck you?”

His voice was so sweet, almost saccharine. How was he not as unraveled as you were? He reached his thumb out to stroke your cheekbone, kissing your jaw softly. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Please,” you pleaded.

“I suppose, since you have such good manners.”

He straightened up and started to move, pulling out of you slowly only to slam back into you again. Every thrust had you jolting forward, your thighs hitting the edge of the cabinet, your sweaty forehead slipping on the counter. The only sounds in the bathroom were your quick breaths and slapping skin, the occasional sound of your knees hitting the cupboard doors. He was starting to speed up, and had you close in no time. 

You were starting to get loud. With your face pressed down, you had no choice but to breathe from your mouth, and the sounds just slipped out. After one particularly loud moan he pulled you up by your hair, holding your face close to the mirror. You used your arms to brace yourself on the counter, making eye contact with him. His hair was a mess, his mouth hanging open just like yours was. God, he was so hot. He caught you gazing and grinned mischievously.

“Look at yourself.”

He used his free hand to reach around and grab hold of your chin, forcing you to stare. Your eyes were wide, your cheeks flushed, your hair plastered to your sweaty face. You were a wreck.

“You look so pretty like this,” he crooned. “Don’t you see how beautiful you are?”

“I-” you panted, “I don’t-”

He slammed into you extra hard, making you close your eyes and cry out. He was so fucking deep inside of you, it felt sinful.

“It was a rhetorical question,” he said. He moved the hand on your chin down to your neck, finally releasing your hair to shove his hand between your legs from the front, rubbing at your clit.

“Watch yourself,” he demanded, squeezing lightly at your neck. You were surprised; you had never done that before. You opened your eyes, trying to keep them open as you watched yourself get fucked by your coworker. He squeezed your neck a bit harder, the veins on his strong hands more prominent than usual. You were starting to get lightheaded. His fingers found that sweet spot on your clit that had your eyes rolling backwards and then you were seeing stars, your arms giving out beneath you. He continued to hold you up by the neck as you slumped forward, continuing to fuck you for another minute or two until he came inside of you, groaning loudly as he did.

He pulled out of you, letting you down gently to rest on the counter. You tried to lean forward as far as you could; your legs were a little shaky from the rough treatment. You closed your eyes, trying to slow your heart rate as he disappeared somewhere. You could feel his cum running slowly down your thighs. It was almost thrilling. And then he was back. You heard him rustling around behind you, and then you felt him wiping at your legs with a rag, cleaning you up.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, your eyes still closed. You don’t know what it was, but something about what had just happened had completely drained you of energy. It was a good kind of exhaustion though, one that you felt in body and mind. You could have probably gone to sleep right there.

“Of course,” he said. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He helped you stand and turned you around, undressing you tenderly. He led you to the toilet and sat you down while he leaned over to turn on the shower. He kneeled in front of you, brushing the loose hair from your face. 

“You did such a good job,” he praised, giving you small kisses on your nose, your forehead, your cheeks. “I am so proud of you.” 

You nodded, opening your eyes to look at him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern on his face. You nodded again. It felt like your tongue was heavy in your mouth, too heavy for you to speak.

“Just need a little time?”

One more nod. He smiled softly.

“Okay. Give me a second.”

He undressed and helped you into the shower. He cleaned you up, and even spent a little extra time massaging where he had slapped your ass. It really hadn’t hurt that much, but you appreciated the attention to detail. He was so kind, so gentle, it almost made your heart hurt. You wanted to do something in exchange for him.

He was reaching around you to turn the water off when you wound your arms around his neck, pressing your forehead against his chest. He paused, letting you hold him close. After a long moment, he wrapped his arms around you, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“Thank you,” you said. You meant it. It was one thing to have sex with someone, and it was another thing for someone to pay so much attention to you after. You weren’t used to this kind of detailed aftercare, this kind of tenderness. It was so much more intimate than you were used to. You felt safe, comforted. You hadn’t felt like that in a very long time.

The realization brought tears to your eyes. When was the last time someone had truly taken care of you? Other than Spencer, you couldn’t really think of anyone else. Maybe your parents when you were a kid?

When was the last time someone had said that they were proud of you?

After a long while, Spencer drew away from you, looking you in the eyes. You watched as his face turned into one of concern. He pressed his hands to your cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe away your tears.

“Are you alright?” he asked, worry in his voice. “Are you hurt? Do you feel safe?”

You covered your face with your hands. How fucking embarrassing. How come he was always the one to see you cry? And over something so dumb, too? 

“I swear I don’t usually cry this much.”

You tried to laugh it off, tried to make a joke of it, but he pulled your hands away from your face, leaning down so that his face was level with yours.

“Please, tell me what’s going on. I need to know you’re okay.”

“I just-” your voice cracked and your lip trembled, but you took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. “I just am not used to being taken care of. That’s all. It’s really okay, I promise.”

Spencer frowned. You loved that his bottom lip always stuck out when he did that, like he was pouting.

“That’s not okay. I’m sorry. You deserve better than that. You know that, right?”

You nodded, successfully fighting off a fresh wave of tears. Usually you would be mad that he was pitying you, but you felt more vulnerable than mad at the moment. Maybe it was the fact that he had caught you off guard before the sex, maybe it was that you had an emotional connection before he had ever even touched you. More than anything, his genuine thoughtfulness made you feel extremely exposed in a way that you hadn’t felt in quite awhile. Raw.

“Are you going to be alright? Would you like to stay here rather than go out? Either way, we need to get some food in you. I doubt you’ve eaten since last night.”

“No, I still wanna go,” you said, sniffling.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Okay,” he said gently, reaching around to turn the water off. The both of you dried off and got dressed. It had taken you a little bit longer than him to get ready; when you were finished, he was lounging on your bed, eyes closed, resting his arms behind his head. You crawled in next to him, wrapping your arms around his torso and snuggling your head against his chest. He was so warm. You heard a rustling sound, and then felt one of his hands on the top of your head, smoothing your hair back. You closed your eyes. After a few long moments, he sat up, bringing you with him.

“You have to be starving,” he said. “We should go.”

Honestly, you really were. You walked him over to the café down the street. In a surprising move, he held your hand on the way there, running his thumb comfortingly over your knuckles. By the time you had gotten food into you, you were almost back to normal. You felt a little tired still, probably remnants from last night as well as this morning, but your mood was looking up. You were even laughing and making jokes. Things seemed like they were going to be okay.

“So you really believe in aliens?” you asked, unlocking your apartment door.

“Considering the statistics and probabilities of there being other life forms in an ever-expanding universe? A majority of which we haven’t even explored? Absolutely.”

You realized he hadn’t followed you inside and you turned around, seeing him stopped in the doorway.

“You can come in,” you offered. You could use some nice cuddle time.

“I can’t, actually,” he said disappointedly. “I procrastinated some paperwork and I’m a little behind.”

Oh.

“No problem!”

You walked back over to him.

“Thank you for today. I had a really nice time.”

You smiled at each other.

“I had a nice time, too.”

His face turned serious for a moment.

“I’m still a little worried about you. You are always welcome to call me, anytime. I’ll answer. Are you going to be alright for the rest of the day? You can always come over.”

“I’ll be okay,” you reassured him. “This really is not a recurring thing, I promise. Text me when you get back safely, okay?”

“Okay.”

He leaned forward, kissing you on the forehead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

“See you tomorrow,” you echoed.

You closed the door when he was out of sight. You were surprised that you were sad to see him go. You plopped down on your couch, lost in thought. You told him you would get back to him on whether or not this was long-term, whether or not it would be more than sex. The girls seemed more than enthusiastic about it, almost more excited than you were.

You still didn’t know what you wanted. You liked being around Spencer, you enjoyed your time together. But something was holding you back. You had gone through traumatic experiences recently, you were crying after sex. You were in a weirdly sexual friendship/relationship with a woman who lived 1,000 miles away, and fucking your coworker that you had a strange friendship/enemies dynamic with at the same time. That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t _healthy_. It seemed like you were using sex to cope rather than dealing with how you really were feeling. How _were_ you feeling?

It appeared that Spencer wanted so much more than this. As much as you wished you could draw this out to figure out how you felt, you were aware that stringing him along wasn’t fair. If he really wanted more, which you suspected he did, you were hurting him by letting this continue. And what about Audrey? You had kept quiet about it to her, not sure if this would change anything. Whether or not she was with someone else, she still deserved to know. It felt like you had been keeping this big secret from her for the past week, and you had been dying to say something. You sighed, picking up your phone and dialing.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Audrey.”

“Hey, girl! What’s up?”

“Can I talk to you about something?”


	23. Missing

“Wait, do you have the time to talk?” you asked. It was only fair that she wasn’t distracted.

“Yeah, of course! I’m just watching tv. What’s going on? Everything okay?”

“Yes. Well, no. Kind of. IsleptwithSpencer.”

It burst out of you before you could even think about it. Maybe saying it really fast would minimize the impact?

“You _what?_ For real?”

Your stomach was in knots. Hopefully she wasn’t upset.

“Uh… yeah.”

“Well fucking finally! How was it?! Was he as good as you imagined? Wait, how did it happen? When? Tell me everything.”

Was this a joke?

“Wait, you’re not mad at me?”

“Dude, why in the world would I be mad at you? You literally kissed the man like two weeks ago! And you’ve known him for how long? It’s about damn time!”

You blushed.

“Okay, well first, I’ve actually known him for like 8 years, but I’ve only been with the profiling unit for about 6 months. And we kissed for the first time like a month ago.”

“You waited 8 years to kiss him?”

She started laughing.

“No! It’s not like that!” You rushed to try to clarify before she jumped to conclusions. “I knew _of_ him for 8 years, I never actually worked closely with him until about 6 months ago. If we’re being honest, the only reason I really even applied to work with him was because we had this big fight a few months before that, and he said that he could do the job better than me. So I decided to prove him wrong. It really isn’t like that, I _swear_. He was honestly so annoying back then. He’s not as bad now though.”

“Well I would hope so, considering you fucked him!”

“Shut up, Audrey!”

“Whatever! Give me the juicy details. Everything. I want to live vicariously through you. Tell me what the doctor has going for him.”

“Well… I wouldn’t say we fucked the first time but… um… about three weeks ago I was really upset. It had just been bad, right? I know you remember. And he…” you paused, blushing to think about trying to explain it to her. “Well, he took me home and he took care of me and then he ate me out. And it wasn’t in a weird like… take advantage kind of way, he said stuff like that helps him relax so he wanted to do that for me.”

“You’ve been sitting on this for THREE WEEKS?!”

“I mean-”

“He ate you out THREE WEEKS AGO and you are JUST NOW telling me? Bitch! I thought we were in this together!”

“I didn’t know you would be so invested! I was worried. And I mean… there’s more,” you replied.

“More?! You’ve got to be fucking joking. You’re joking, right?”

“No, but I can’t tell you if you keep interrupting!”

“Okay, fine! Minimal interruptions from now on. Tell me everything.”

You explained, in somewhat excruciating detail, everything that had happened with him over the past three weeks, including the strange terms the two of you had put on it.

“So, are the two of you exclusive?” Audrey asked.

“I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it, so I don’t think so.”

“Well, do you want to be?”

You weren’t ready to answer that yet.

“I don’t know.”

“Just think of it this way. How would you feel if you found out that after his paperwork tonight, he went to the nearest bookstore or whatever and fucked the pretty librarian-looking girl that worked there? Would you be upset?”

You had to think about it for a moment.

“It… makes me feel kind of gross. I don’t think I like that very much.”

“Okay, so you don’t want him to see other people. Would you be okay to go out and find someone random at a bar and hook up? Would you be guilt-free the next day when you see him at work?”

“No… I don’t think I would feel good about that at all.”

“Then there’s your answer. Exclusive means that there’s a long-term label attached to it. So the next question you have to answer is if you want more than that.”

You slid down so you were laying on the couch now, one of your legs dangling over the side while you switched the phone to your other ear.

“See, I don’t know. Because if I say yes, then we can’t work together anymore. We’ve both spent almost 10 years in the same place, and he technically has superiority in this case, so I would have to leave. And I don’t know if I’m willing to do that, because what if it doesn’t work out? Then I wasted almost 10 years for nothing.”

“But what if it _does_ work out?”

“With Spencer? No. I mean, I don’t know. I can’t really see it.”

“You can’t? You’ve spent a lot of time with him recently, can’t you imagine just doing that all the time?”

“I mean maybe, but it’s mostly sex. And food, too. And watching tv. I don’t know, I mean he spends a lot of time looking out for me and caring for me, and I want to do the same for him. I’m just scared that he won’t… like me.”

Audrey stifled a laugh.

“You’re kidding. Seriously? He already knows you! The man practically begged you for some coochie! If he gets around like you said he does, then why is he spending all that time with you? Why is he taking care of _you_? You really need to think about what he’s doing. Does he go to Emily’s house just to give her some head?”

You burst out laughing.

“No, I’m pretty sure Emily isn’t into men. Definitely not Spencer.”

“Well then, there you go! Just think on it, okay? You don’t have to tell him anything. Except maybe the exclusive part, just because that’s important for communication. The last thing you need is for something dumb like that to ruin something that could be awesome.”

“You’re right.”

“I know I am! So what are you doing on the phone with me? Call him!”

“Okay, okay! I’ll text you, let you know how it goes.”

“Okay, bye!”

“Bye!”

You hung up, taking a moment to steady your breath. This felt like a really big moment for you, even though it probably didn’t need to be. Either way, your heart wasn’t going to stop racing so you dialed his number anyways. It rang out, going to voicemail. 

You frowned, pulling your phone away from your face. Weird. Didn’t he _just_ say he would always answer when you called? Perhaps he meant it in like… an emergency kind of sense. It disappointed you to think that maybe he wasn’t as serious as he said he was. 

You shot him a text anyways. It was vague, just asking him if he could call when he got the chance. You waited all night in anticipation, and for nothing. You knew he wasn’t a phone person, but this felt intentional. Maybe you were too late. Maybe he was out fucking whatever librarian bookstore girl was closest to his apartment. You shook your head to yourself. No, not gonna think about that. You were getting jealous and making yourself mad for no reason.

You wouldn’t admit it, but you stayed up way later than you needed to that night, just to see if he would call you back.

-

Still nothing from him in the morning. You were starting to get over it at this point, trying to convince yourself that you weren’t serious about wanting to be with him, that you really didn’t care what happened. That being said, you were in a pissy mood all the way to the office. You decided to just be cool about it, act like you weren’t bothered by him at all. Except he wasn’t there when you arrived. 

The first hour went by, nothing. The second, still nothing. By the third hour, you were starting to get worried. Hotch had come and taken a few looks into the bullpen, and on the fifth time he checked he decided to come down to talk you and Emily.

“Have either of you spoken to Reid today?”

The both of you shook your heads. He started to walk away before you realized you should probably speak up.

“I, uh… I spoke to him yesterday, around 3pm? He never got back to me after that though. I think he was travelling around the city. I don’t know.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” Hotch said, nodding. “I’ll check in with the others.”

Emily turned to you with a curious look on her face.

“You talk to Reid? Outside of work?”

“Not often, but sometimes, yeah. Why? Is that… weird?”

“No,” Emily said quickly, “I just don’t think I’ve really seen you two get along much. You barely talk here at work. I was just wondering.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you said, shrugging it off. It wasn’t. 

You and Emily watched Hotch hightail it from Morgan’s office down the hall to Penny’s. You looked at each other. Something was wrong. The two of you followed him. 

“… trace on his cell?”

“Faster than you can think it. Okay. It last pinged here. That’s close to his home. If he was taking the metro, then it would have been at his stop.”

“Everything alright?” Emily asked, tapping at the door. Hotch and Penny turned to the two of you.

“Nobody can get in touch with Reid. I think something’s wrong,” Hotch said, frowning. 

Your stomach dropped.

“He used his Metro card yesterday afternoon!” Penny called back from her desk. “It looked like he was getting off at his stop. His phone is on, GPS says it’s still there.” 

Hotch turned to the two of you.

“Let’s go. Garcia, check the cameras to see if you can track him. If you can’t find him, check the local hospitals to see if they have a John Doe that matches his description.”

Chills ran down your spine.

“On it.”

Hotch called in the rest of the team, and all of you got into the SUVs. You, Hotch, and Emily were rushing to the Metro while JJ, Rossi, and Morgan were going to his apartment. You had a horrible sinking feeling. Something was wrong, and it was your fault. If Spencer hadn’t met you, if you had just insisted that he stay…

No. You couldn’t afford to think like this, not now. You needed to remain unbiased, clear-headed. You needed to make sure he was okay. The car on the ride over was silent as a tomb. You were all worried. Garcia conference called the team as you arrived at the station.

“There’s something weird going on here, guys,” she said. “There’s a blind spot on the cameras in the station. Spencer walks into the spot and never comes out. I looked at the map, it looks like there’s a service door there for employees, but it’s usually locked to the public.”

“Where is it, Garcia?”

“Sending a map to you now,” she replied. “There’s no luck on the hospitals. Hotch?”

“Yes?”

“Please find him.”

She hung up. She sounded close to tears.

While Hotch was talking to the station supervisor, Rossi called your cell.

“Yeah?” you answered.

“He’s not here,” he said disappointedly. You sighed. You knew he wouldn’t be, but a small part of you was still hoping. 

“Hotch said you were the last person to speak to him?”

“Uh… yeah, I think so,” you replied nervously. “Why?”

“Did he mention anything about what he was doing yesterday? He doesn’t keep a planner, we were wondering if you had any idea of where he was?”

Your heart stopped. The girls would know. You debated for a moment on what to say. They were going to find out you were with him eventually, they would track him down anyways. They’d grill the waitress, watch security footage. Might as well come clean now, or at least as clean as you could without raising suspicion.

“We had lunch together, at First Watch Café. I was supposed to meet somebody else but they cancelled, and Spencer wanted to talk about the new French film he had seen. I didn’t have anything better to do, so he met me at my place close to noon.”

Emily turned to look at you as you were speaking, a weird look on her face.

“Did anything seem off about him at all?”

“No, he seemed normal to me,” you responded as nonchalantly as possible. Maybe more horny than usual, but you weren’t going to say that. 

“Okay. Thank you. We’re on our way to you now.”

“Okay, thanks Rossi. See you soon.”

The supervisor started to lead the three of you over to the blind spot in the cameras.

“Lunch with Reid?” Emily asked in a lowered voice.

“Grayson cancelled,” you lied. What kind of a name was that? Ew.

“Grayson? Prince Charming?”

“Yeah. Kinda disappointed, honestly. He seemed so promising.”

You tried to make yourself seem saddened as you said it. Emily was going to look for that.

“Huh. I’m sorry,” she replied.

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Just how it is, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

“Here it is.”

Behind the service door, there was a hallway. Apparently, a lot of the maintenance doors were connected, making a maze of hallways through the station. There were even entrances to the sewer system underground. It was going to be almost impossible to find him. Nestled under a huge pile of equipment near the door was Spencer’s bag. Your heart sunk. 

“He was here,” Hotch said, grabbing Spencer’s things. “We need to bring in the K-9 unit. See if we can track where they took him.”

Emily called in the unit while you and Hotch went through Spencer’s things. Nothing seemed to be missing from his bag. His gun was in there, along with his phone, wallet, and keys. 

“This wasn’t a robbery,” you said gravely. Hotch nodded.

“They wanted some kind of information that he had. We have to assume that this applies to all of us. We’re all targets, now.”

The rest of the team arrived. While you were waiting for the K-9 unit, the team ran through theories. Could it be connected to an old case? Did someone have a grudge? Was it against Spencer, or someone else? The more it went on, the more you became sick to your stomach. Spencer had been gone for almost 20 hours now.

Just as you had feared, they had taken him through the sewer system. There was almost no way to track him through there. You were stuck at the office, going through camera footage but finding nothing, as you had suspected. There was no ransom note, no phone calls, nothing. You were stuck in the dark, no leads, nothing. Everyone was on edge. Nobody was allowed to be alone anymore. 

It wasn’t like anyone was really going home, though. You were poring over old cases, old unsubs, trying to find someone, anyone, that could fit any profile, any person who had the time and capabilities to do something like this. There really wasn’t anyone you could come up with in the area with ulterior motives. But there were still tons of cases to go through, at least 8 years worth.

You kept replaying the last conversation you had with him in your head. It was getting hard to focus on your computer screen. What time was it? You checked. 2am. You knew you should go home, knew you should take a shower, change clothes, go get some rest. You knew quite a few people had left, would be back in about 4 or 5 hours. You sighed, continuing to sift through files.

You heard a knock on your desk behind you. You started and turned in your chair to see Hotch standing there.

“You need to go home and get some rest,” he said.

“I know,” you said, sighing. “I just want to finish this file.”

“It will be waiting for you in the morning,” he replied. “We’re no good to him if we’re sleep deprived. Everyone else is gone, I can’t leave until you’re ready to go.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting,” you said sheepishly. You started to shut your computer down, bookmarking what file you were on. 

“It’s alright. I have some clothes in my go-bag. Would it be alright if we stayed at your place? I’m… nervous about being around Jack, considering we don’t know what’s going on yet.”

Your heart melted a little bit. He rarely spoke about his son, but you loved to see how devoted he was, how much he cared.

“Of course, Aaron. Whatever you need. Do you know the address?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure I have it in my phone. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

The ride to your place was mostly silent. You were staring out the window pensively when Hotch called your name. You turned to look at him.

“Yes?”

“I’m sure you’ve already thought about it, but did you happen to see anyone following you? Anybody from the crowd stick out at you when you were at lunch?”

You had been thinking about that all day. You sighed disappointedly.

“No. I wish I had paid more attention, and I didn’t. I’m sorry. It’s my-”

“Don’t say it’s your fault,” he said sternly. “It’s not. You had no idea of knowing.”

“But if he hadn’t been with me-”

“You didn’t know. Don’t put this on yourself. It’ll only make the case more difficult. Let’s just focus on getting some rest, alright?”

“Okay.”

It was weird having your boss use your shower, and even weirder to see him laying on your couch. You had a difficult time sleeping that night, trying not to cry. You were worried sick, thinking about Spencer. Was he okay? Was he hurt? You prayed to whatever being that would listen, hoping that you would find him alive, wherever he was.


	24. The Hospital

It had been days. Still nothing. Everyone was on edge, desperate for answers. It was impossible for someone to just get away with kidnapping an FBI agent like that in broad daylight. And yet they _did_ get away with it. Looking over old cases had done nothing; there weren’t any leads to be found. You had combed over every inch of the crime scene. There was no evidence. It was maddening, just sitting around going over old cases again and again and again for something, anything, and coming up empty every single time.

Everyone coped in their own way, but the consensus was long hours at headquarters with lots of caffeine and no sleep. You had resorted to taking your work laptop and sitting on the floor in Penny’s office. She would cry randomly at times from stress and worry, so you wanted to be there to comfort her. You also knew that if you were busy taking care of her, you could avoid your own emotions. It was better to ignore them anyways, because Spencer needed you to be logical. That’s what he would have encouraged.

Hotch got the call on Thursday.

Someone, the team didn’t know who, was antagonizing him. Teasing him about where Spencer was, what they were doing to him. Insisted that Hotch knew what this was about, but made no ransom demand. If there was no demand, there was a very good chance they wouldn’t be returning Spencer alive. Penny had enhanced the recording to see if she could pick anything up. The sound of rushing water, the creaking of boats, seagulls. A marina. She also picked up the sound of Spencer in the background. It sounded like he was crying, begging for help. You were almost in tears from the desperation in his voice. What the fuck were they doing to him?

Penny came through like she always did. She had been able to triangulate the phone call, pinpoint possible locations with help from the team. She was pretty sure she had gotten the right place, but that was enough for the team to go off of. Morgan was stoic, practically breaking every driving law known to man on the way there. You were in the backseat, holding on for dear life while JJ tried to calm him down from the passenger seat. To describe the atmosphere as tense would have been an understatement.

“He… he knows how to deal with these situations,” she said unconvincingly. You had all heard the recordings.

“And he ended up becoming an addict after that,” Morgan spit back.

“You don’t have to say it like that,” JJ replied, sounding hurt.

“Morgan!” you snapped. 

JJ turned to look back at you, her eyes watery.

“No, he’s right. A few years ago, we… Spencer and I got into some trouble. He was kidnapped and tortured, killed and then brought back to life after. In this specific case, he was given dilaudid by the unsub. He became addicted, used it to cope afterwards. I never forgave myself for that. Morgan isn’t wrong.”

“Fighting right now is the last thing we need to be doing,” you replied firmly. You were trying to hold your ground, trying to pretend like what she said hadn’t phased you. Spencer had mentioned his addiction once, but you had never realized that it was work-related. 

“You’re right,” Derek sighed. “JJ, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just-”

“We’re all worried about him,” she replied gently. “I know.”

Paramedics, SWAT, and the bomb squad had been called. If this was a trap, a way to snuff out the entire team, it would be a great setup to do so. It was an old, abandoned cannery out by the shore. The bomb squad went in first, and then the team with SWAT. There was nothing in the building at all. Maybe you had the wrong place?

No, there was a room up ahead with the lights on. The only one with lights on, as far as you could tell. SWAT beat down the door, and there Spencer was. He was tied to a chair in the bare and nondescript concrete room, blindfolded and gagged. JJ had gotten to him first, ripping the coverings off of his face. The dark circles under his eyes were the worst you had ever seen, his clothes and hair matted and filthy, covered in sweat, dirt, and blood. He was looking around confusedly with wide eyes, but slurring his speech. He had been drugged.

Your heart sank. This is what had happened to him before. What would happen now? Would he relapse? You moved forward to help JJ with his restraints. Spencer looked at you, and an expression of terror overtook his face.

“Not you,” he said, closing his eyes and shaking his head violently. “Not you!”

“No, it’s okay Spencer, it’s just us,” JJ said soothingly, working at the ropes at his wrists. Spencer started to struggle, scooting the chair along the floor and away from her from thrashing so aggressively.

“Not her! Don’t let her take me, JJ, please!” he was almost sobbing, looking straight at you. You froze, staring into his eyes. There was terror there, so unparalleled from anything you had ever seen from him before. David put his hand on your shoulder, quickly ushering you out of the room as Morgan took your place. Almost immediately you heard him stop fighting, listening to Morgan and JJ try to calm him down, assuring him that you weren’t there anymore.

“Don’t let her take me,” you heard him whimper. Your heart almost broke. What had happened to him? Your felt like you couldn’t breathe and tried to regain control of your lungs as David took you out of the building, guiding you to one of the SUVs and out of anyone’s eyesight. Spencer wouldn’t see you when they wheeled him out of the building. David sat you down in the backseat, standing next to you as you tried to compose yourself. 

“You okay, kiddo?” he asked softly. You shook your head slightly.

It was one thing to see Spencer so beaten down, so unraveled. It was another thing to see the look of fear in his eyes, fear that _you_ had somehow caused, even though you had no idea what you had done in the first place. 

“I’m worried about him,” you whispered.

“I know,” he replied, placing his hand on your shoulder comfortingly. The two of you stayed in silence, listening to the sounds of the team and the paramedics loading him up. Emily caught up to you after the ambulance drove off.

“They don’t think anything is broken. Lots of cuts and bruises, maybe a concussion, and he’s drugged up really badly. They’re not sure if there’s any internal damage yet.”

Poor JJ, you thought. If you knew her well enough, then you knew she was going to relive some of that past guilt. Except this time, you would be right next to her, because you hadn’t checked on him. If you had realized earlier, done something else… There’s no way you could have known, though. You knew that, and yet you still blamed yourself. You were the one who had invited him over in the first place. 

“Can we go see him?” you asked. Emily hesitated.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea for him to see you.”

You knew she was right. You still found yourself upset, though. You wanted to be there for him, but your presence only made it worse.

“Maybe go home, get some rest?” Rossi offered.

“No,” you replied. “I’ll still come with you guys, I’ll just… stay out of sight.”

Spencer hadn’t had a bad reaction to anyone else, so they were all allowed to see him. Not like he was there mentally, though. The doctors had said he was on a crazy amount of hallucinogens, apparently on an absolutely horrible trip. They ran x-rays, cat scans, the whole 9 yards. They said they needed to keep him in for observation for a few days, because whatever he was on in such high doses could send him into another trip at almost any time, even after he came down initially. 

You stayed in the waiting room, going off of what everyone had said when they saw him, trying to imagine what he was like. When you heard he was asleep, and nobody was paying attention to you, you crept down the hall to peek at him through the window into his room. He was cleaned up now, his hair extra fluffy from whatever shampoo they used. Without the dirt and blood on his face, you could clearly see all of the cuts and bruises that covered his face and body. 

You choked back tears. He looked so small, so vulnerable there. And you had done that to him. Indirectly, but still. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you turned to see who it was. Morgan.

“Hey, sweet girl,” he said softly.

“Hey, Derek.”

“You doing alright?”

You nodded, turning to look at Spencer again through the window.

“Yeah, I’ll manage.”

“You know it’s not your fault, okay? You couldn’t have known.”

So he had heard.

“I know.”

You both stood silently for awhile, looking in on your friend. 

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“What are the chances that they led us to him on purpose?”

“I’d say pretty high.”

“Yeah, I thought so.”

It was just too easy. There was something off about how the warehouse was abandoned, no unsubs, no evidence left to speak of. Just Spencer. They had either gotten what they wanted from him, or accomplished whatever experiment or torture tactic that they had wanted to inflict upon him or the team. As relieved as you were to have Spencer back, the thought that something so horrible was waiting for you in the future was terrifying.

-

It took five days before Spencer was mostly back to normal. He had been slipping in and out of trips, but hadn’t had one in a bout 24 hours. The team had taken turns speaking to him when he was conscious, trying to get the story as delicately as possible. From what they had gathered, he had been drugged at the metro, probably injected with something and then taken through the maintenance halls and sewer to the cannery. 

They had tortured him, dosed him with drugs, beat him, starved him, waterboarded him, deprived him of sleep. He had probably been awake for almost 5 days straight. The hallucinations plus the interrogations were absolute hell on him. The team had been taking turns spending nights with him in his room to make sure he was safe, protected, just in case whoever it was decided to come back to finish the job. You asked if you could see him once he was stable in the evening, not wanting to provoke him again.

“What did he say?” you asked, wringing your hands. Hotch paused for a moment, considering his next words.

“He thought you were dead. He’s absolutely convinced that he saw you die. He might be in a bit of shock to see you. Proceed with caution. I’ll be waiting right down the hall, just in case.”

You nodded, making your way to Spencer’s room. You knocked lightly before warily opening the door, peeking your head in. He looked up at you from the hospital bed, a guarded look on his face.

“Can I come in?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he replied carefully. You slowly walked in, taking note of how he watched your every motion like a hawk. You sat next to him at a respectful distance, trying not to make sudden moves.

“How are you feeling?” you asked. You were going to ask how he was doing, but considering the situation, you were sure it wouldn’t be a good answer.

“Better. How are _you_ feeling?”

“I’m fine. Happy to have you back. We missed you.”

You gave a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. He sat further up in bed, leaning slightly towards you to look straight into your eyes.

“I watched you die.”

The seriousness in his voice sent chills down your spine. You tried not to let it get to you, taking a deep breath to calm yourself.

“I’m right here, Spencer. I was never in any danger.”

“No, you don’t understand,” he said frustratedly. “You were right there in front of me. I watched them shoot you right here.”

He reached out and tapped your forehead, just above your left eyebrow.

“I felt the blood splatter onto my face. I watched your brains spill out of your skull onto the floor. I know I wasn’t all there but I could still tell some of the differences between what was real and what was fake. You shouldn’t be here.”

You clenched and unclenched your fists nervously, trying to figure out what to say. He was so adamant that it was real, it was upsetting.

“I haven’t been alone since they took you,” you replied slowly. “The others can tell you, I’ve been with them the whole time.”

He sighed exasperatedly, flopping back into his bed and squeezing his eyes shut.

“This isn’t real. You’re not real. Probably just a figment of my imagination. Nobody has mentioned you because they’re scared that I don’t know you’re gone.”

“Spencer, that doesn’t make any sense. Hotch just asked you about me. They were scared to say anything because you freaked out when you saw me the last time.”

He opened his eyes again, frowning at you.

“How do I know it’s not a hallucination?”

“Does it feel like one?”

“No.” 

“How can I make you feel better? How can I prove to you that I’m not fake?”

He paused for a long moment.

“Come here.”

You scooted your chair closer to his bed. He leaned forward again, using both of his hands to brush your hair away from your forehead to get a better look at you. He ran his thumb across the top of your eyebrows before tilting your head down. You felt his fingers roam across your scalp, getting tangled slightly in your hair, looking for something you couldn’t see. You got a good look at his arms when he did so. There were bandages covering what you were sure were deep cuts in his skin, bruises on almost every other surface. There were needles stuck into his arms, keeping him hooked to a few IV bags. There were fresh needle tracks near his veins, presumably from this week. But there were very faint scars, barely visible in the same place, that you knew were way older than that.

“There’s no exit wound, I promise,” you joked, trying to hold back the sadness you felt in your chest. He had to be in pain. Since he had been an addict in the past, they probably weren’t medicating him to the fullest extent for fear that he would relapse, if he hadn’t already from whatever the unsubs had given him. Eventually, Spencer was satisfied, letting go of your head to relax back into his bed.

“It’s you,” he murmured softly.

“Yeah.” 

You smiled gently at him.

“But if you’re here, then who did they kill?”

“I don’t know. But you’re sure it was real?”

He nodded, deadpan.

“Absolutely.”

“Have you told anybody about that yet?”

“No, I thought they already knew.”

“Okay,” you said. “I trust you. I’m going to talk to Hotch. We need to see if we can find out who this girl is. Are you okay to be on your own for a moment?”

“Of course.”

“Alright. I’ll be right back.”

You left the room, searching for Hotch down the hall. You explained the situation to him. He nodded concernedly.

“I’ll talk to Garcia, see if we can find anyone matching that description in any morgues in the area.”

“Sounds good. I’m gonna go back to him, see if he needs anything.”

“No problem. I’ll keep you updated,” he said, pulling out his phone. You walked back to Spencer’s room, knocking on the door again before entering. You sat back down next to the bed.

“Garcia is on it,” you told him. 

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

He yawned, putting his hand up to cover his mouth.

“I can go,” you said, gesturing to the door. “You haven’t slept, I’m sure you need the rest.”

“Can you stay?”

You were taken aback.

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I know you weren’t really convinced about me earlier.”

“No, I want you here,” he replied, reaching his hand out to you. You took his hand in yours and he closed his eyes. He was asleep in no time, snoring softly. You took that time to really look at his face. His bottom lip was busted, and he had a black eye, the skin on one of his cheekbones split, little cuts littering his face. They hadn’t quite broken his nose, but you could tell it had been bleeding earlier in the day. He looked so vulnerable, in a way that you had never seen before. It scared you.

You were starting to get sleepy too. You hadn’t slept well even after you had found him, worried sick about what he had gone through and whether he was going to be okay. You didn’t want to move away to the couch on the other side of the bed in case it woke him up. Instead, you got a little closer to him, folding your arms on the edge of the mattress and resting your head on your elbow so you could still look at him. You held his hand to your mouth for a moment, brushing your lips across each knuckle softly. You had missed him.

It felt like you had closed your eyes for only a moment before you were being shaken awake by somebody. You sat up slowly, letting go of Spencer’s hand to rub at your eyes, turning to see Emily standing behind you. Your back cracked as you did so, and you felt some pain down your spine and your neck. That’s what you get for sleeping in a weird position.

“Hey, Em,” you croaked, your eyes adjusting to the light streaming in from the windows.

“Hey there. We’re having a meeting outside, Hotch wanted me to get you.”

“Okay,” you nodded sleepily, standing up slowly. Even your legs and ass hurt from sitting so long in the uncomfortable chair. “Just give me a second.”

Emily left and you grabbed stationary from next to the bed, scribbling a note to Spencer just in case he woke up while you were gone. You tucked it into his hand and snuck out, closing the door as quietly as you could. You tried to fix your hair and clothes as you walked, hoping you didn’t look as disheveled as you felt. You would need to go home and shower soon. You met the team in a secluded area, where you wouldn’t be overheard by passersby.

“Garcia found someone matching the description that Reid gave,” Hotch said in a low voice. “I’ve sent the files to your phones.”

“Oh, I don’t have mine on me,” you said, patting your pockets. “I think I left it in the room.”

“That’s fine, you can look off of mine,” Emily offered, pulling up the document for you. It suddenly got very silent, and you realized why. The girl in the photos, the one with the bullet through her skull, looked almost exactly like you. Her nose and eyebrow shape were a little different, her hair color off by a few shades, and her body weight seemed to be distributed differently, but she could have easily been mistaken as your sister. And if Spencer was drugged up, he probably wouldn’t have able to tell the difference.

Is that what you were going to look like when you were dead?

“We need to take a look at the victimology,” Hotch said. There was an awkward silence, and you could tell everyone was trying not to stare at you, compare you to the pictures on their screens.

“Why did they use a substitute rather than the real thing?” Morgan finally asked quietly. Fuck.

“It’s not like I would be difficult to grab,” you offered up, trying to stay cool. “They took Spencer early in the afternoon, they had all evening to get me and they didn’t.”

“Then it’s not about accessibility,” JJ stated. “Maybe they made the plan later and didn’t realize how difficult it would be to separate you from everyone else.”

“Or they realized they could use you as a bargaining chip in the future. But out of all of us, why you?” Rossi pondered.

“Maybe they already had the substitute lined up?” you shrugged. “I was the last person to see him, so they probably wanted him to think that they got us at the same time. I think the better question is why _didn’t_ they take me? I’m more accessible and less experienced than Spencer.”

“If they were interrogating Spencer for information about us, or even a case,” Emily started, “then it wouldn’t make sense for them to take you. You’ve only been part of the profiling unit for 6 months, you couldn’t give them what they wanted. But Spencer has an eidetic memory. He’s a walking FBI database.”

“We need to see what they asked him about,” Rossi said. “If this is about you, Hotch, then it probably has to do with someone you personally put away.”

“Would Spencer even be up for questioning right now?” JJ asked concernedly.

“He’s going to have to be,” Hotch answered. “Morgan, I’ll trust that you can handle it?”

“Not a problem,” he answered.

“The rest of you can go home for now,” Hotch said. “Take a break for the day, we’ll reconvene tomorrow. It’s been a difficult few days, amd we all need some time to process this. Morgan, if you can talk to Reid before you go, I would appreciate it. We’ll need someone to stay the night here as well.”

“I can do it,” Emily volunteered.

“Thanks, Prentiss. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

The team started to break away, off to wherever they wanted to go. 

“Uh, I just need to grab some stuff from his room real quick and you can do your thing, Morgan,” you said quickly. “I need to go home anyways, take a shower.”

“We can go together, then,” he replied. On the walk back to Spencer’s room, he stopped you.

“Hey,” he said in a comforting voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you assured him. You honestly weren’t sure, but you weren’t going to think about it right now.

“Okay,” he replied skeptically. “You can always talk to me about it if you’d like.”

“I appreciate it, Derek. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Spencer was awake when the two of you got to his room.

“Hey, guys,” he said in that timid voice of his. You almost forgot how much he used to speak like that.

“Hi,” you waved at him. “I’m just grabbing my stuff. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“See you later,” Spencer replied.

It wasn’t until you got to your car that the shaking started. No wonder Spencer was so terrified. That could have easily been you. It looked like you. You tried to put your keys into the ignition but had to stop for a second, taking deep breaths so that the panic wouldn’t overtake you. You couldn’t drive like this. You were scared out of your mind. Should you even be alone right now?

No, if Hotch thought it was safe then it probably was. You were able to get your breathing under control, minimize the shaking in your hands. You drove home slowly, trying not to think about how Spencer looked lying in the hospital bed, or how your double looked with the gaping wound in her forehead. 

It’s fine. It’s fine, you told yourself. It’s okay. 

It’s going to be okay.


	25. Breakfast

Spencer was up and walking a few days later, and the doctors had decided he was okay enough to leave. Not long after, he was given a psychological evaluation from Hotch, and passed as everyone had expected. You worried, though. All of you knew how to get past red tape like that, unless he was extremely unraveled there was no reason why he wouldn’t be able to pass.

You were almost afraid to approach him when he appeared in the office the following Monday. You hadn’t even spared him a text or call, opting to keep to yourself. You were worried that he blamed you, worried that being around you would make him susceptible to getting hurt again. The cuts and bruises on his body started to fade, but you would probably never forget how he looked at you with such fear, how frail he looked in the hospital bed.

His interrogators were asking about personal information about the team. This gave everyone a better idea of who you were up against, or at least what they wanted. Their objective was revenge, obviously, but for what? The team was trying to go over old cases, but there wasn’t much progress being made with newer cases piling up. There was no evidence left on the dead girl’s body, so that was a dead end, too. Eventually, you all had to put it on the backburner, hoping that something new would come to light. 

You were home alone one night, watching mindless television and scrolling on your phone when there was a knock on the door. You frowned. 10 o’clock on a Friday night? Something was wrong. There was another knock, more insistent this time. You crept to the door, looking through the peephole to see who it was. 

Spencer?

You unlocked the door, opening it and looking up at him quizzically.

“Hey,” you said concernedly.

“Hi,” he replied, rocking back and forth on his feet. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.”

You moved out of the way so he could enter, closing and locking the door behind him. You didn’t trust to leave any doors unlocked anymore. Spencer stood around awkwardly, looking around your apartment as if he had never seen it before. He seemed to be invested at looking at anything except for you.

“You can sit down if you want,” you offered, walking past him to take your former place on the couch. He took a seat in your armchair, setting his satchel on the floor next to it discreetly and crossing one leg over the other. He finally looked at you, and the intensity of his gaze made you want to look away.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he stated. Was there a tinge of sadness in his voice?

“Have I?”

“You haven’t spoken to me in over a week.”

“Oh.”

Had it really been that long? You did the math in your head. You had last spoken to him in the hospital last Wednesday when you left. So yeah, it had been over a week.

“Uh, I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t mean to make it weird or anything.”

“Why would it be weird?”

“Spencer, the last conversation we had, you were convinced I was some hallucination. What am I supposed to say to that?”

“I was thinking more of a ghost. Or like an angel.”

“You-” you paused for a moment, trying to take that in. “You thought that I died and came back as a ghost to haunt you?”

He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed.

“I mean I saw worse stuff during that time.”

“So… you believe in ghosts? Or angels? Is that why you were so scared when you saw me the first time, when we came to get you?”

“I don’t know what I believe. When we were there, I thought that I could see you because you were going to take my soul away, and I didn’t want to die,” he said quietly.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

What else was there for you to say? There weren’t really any words of comfort you could offer him. This wasn’t a universal experience, it’s not like you could give any advice. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“You know I don’t blame you for this, right?”

There it was.

“Yeah, I know,” you whispered, looking away from him.

“Hey,” he said insistently. Your eyes flicked back over to him. “I’m serious. You didn’t know.”

“But you were there because of me,” you replied.

“And if I wasn’t there then, I would have been there the day after that, and the day after that, too. It was going to happen eventually, because it’s what they wanted to happen. You had no control over that.”

You were tired of having this conversation over and over again, with yourself and others. It was getting annoying, and at the moment you honestly just wanted to be left alone.

“I don’t mean to be rude, Spencer, but why are you here? It’s late. Did you come all this way just to confront me about not talking to you?”

“I, um…” he cleared his throat,” I haven’t been sleeping well.”

Oh. Now that he mentioned it, you could see how dark the circles under his eyes were. You felt like a bitch for even asking.

“I’m sorry,” you replied meekly, trying to make up for your outburst. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like. Do you want to go lie down now?”

“No, it’s too early,” he replied.

“I get it. Do you wanna watch some tv?”

“Yeah, I’d be okay with that.”

The both of you watched in silence. You weren’t even paying much attention, and you were pretty sure he wasn’t either, both of you too lost in thought to even care. A little while later you were starting to feel tired. You knew if you didn’t shower soon, you were going to fall asleep and feel stinky when you woke up in the morning. You finally broke the silence.

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” you told him, getting up off of the couch. “Honestly, I’ll probably go to bed after that.”

He nodded at you from the armchair. You showered quickly and got dressed in the bathroom, brushing your teeth. You came back into your room and noticed Spencer wasn’t there. Maybe he wanted to give you some privacy? You went back out into the living room, going to the kitchen for some water. Spencer had moved to the couch, lying down with his eyes closed with only a little throw pillow beneath his head. Your blanket was too short for him, so his feet stuck out from the bottom. He looked so silly, like a giant amongst your tiny things, so much so that you stifled a laugh.

“What are you doing?” you chuckled, pouring your water as you looked back at him.

“Just trying to sleep.”

“Spencer.”

He opened his eyes at you.

“You can sleep in my bed,” you said. “Do you want some water?”

He paused for a moment.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay.” You grabbed another cup. He still hadn’t moved.

“You really don’t have to sleep on the couch, you know,” you told him.

“I just don’t want to impose.”

You scoffed, turning around with the glasses of water in your hands.

“It would make me feel better if you slept in bed with me. Does that help?”

He looked up at you and nodded, sitting up on the couch. You handed him his cup, listening as he followed you to your room. You waited until he was in under the covers before turning off the lights. You had a couple sips from your glass before setting it on your nightstand and snuggling under the blankets. Something was off.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you wearing your jeans in bed?”

He was silent for a moment.

“Maybe.”

You wished you could see his face in the dark.

“You can take them off. I seriously don’t care.”

“I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he replied.

“I’ve slept half-naked next to you before. You’re allowed to take your clothes off.”

“… are you sure?”

You sighed. What was with him today? He was withdrawn, timid. He had barely looked you in the eyes all night.

“If you don’t take them off, then I can do it for you. Unless you feel better like this, which is totally fine if that’s the case, keep them on. But you shouldn’t feel obligated to do that for me. I want you to be comfortable.”

“Okay.”

You felt him moving around underneath the covers, hearing the sound of him undressing and his clothes falling to the floor. And then it was quiet again.

Usually when you slept next to him, he was touching you in some way, whether his arms were around you or his shoulder next to yours. But he kept his distance, strictly staying on his side of the bed. It felt wrong. You scooted a little closer to him, reaching out gently to lay your hand on his chest, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

You didn’t know how long it was before you were shaken awake. What? It took you a few moments to process what was going on. The shaking was coming from beneath you. You heard a sniffle and then it hit you. Spencer was crying. The realization woke you up quickly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you croaked, reaching up to his face. You put your hand on his cheek and tried to wipe as many tears away as you could in the dark. He sniffed, and you could feel his hand encompass yours.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” he choked out. You heart broke hearing his voice.

“You should have woken me up sooner,” you said softly. “Come here.”

You drew your other hand to his face, guiding him so that he could rest his head on your chest. He was still trembling, but you held him close anyways, feeling his tears seep through the fabric of your shirt. You ran your hands through his hair, stroking his temple softly with your thumb.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. “I’m right here.”

You repeated it over and over again until he stopped shaking, his breathing slowly evening out. Eventually, he was asleep, his soft snores vibrating against your chest. You tried to fall back asleep, but couldn’t. You remembered making a joke a long time ago about wanting to see him cry, but now that it had actually happened, you felt absolutely horrible. The worst part was that there was nothing you could do to help him.

-

When you woke up again, light was streaming through the curtains. Spencer was stirring in your arms, untangling himself and reaching up to stroke your cheek gently.

“Hi,” he whispered.

“Good morning.”

He shifted upwards on the bed so he was face to face with you, leaning forward to kiss your lips softly. You closed your eyes, moving your hands to stroke his cheek delicately. His kisses were slow and sweet, his hands warm on your face. You pulled away from him, smiling. He stroked your bottom lip with his thumb, a wistful look on his face. Your stomach growled, and the both of you laughed.

“Do you want some breakfast?” you asked after your giggles had subsided.

“Yes, please.”

He had the most beautiful eyes.

“Okay. I’ll get started,” you replied, kissing the tip of his nose lightly. You bounded out of bed, walking to the kitchen to see what you had. Almost nothing. You had some eggs, flour, milk, but no sugar. So not pancakes. But biscuits, maybe? Some eggs?

You grabbed your phone from where you left it on the coffee table. Your record player in the corner caught your eye. You never used it, but today felt like a good time. You knew Spencer liked classical music, and you had exactly one vinyl with classical music on it, gifted to you a long time ago. You had played it maybe once. You threw it on the player anyways, turning it on and going back to the kitchen while the music filled your apartment. You started the coffee before looking up some simple recipes on your phone. It seemed easy enough. You had just put the biscuits in the oven and set a timer when you turned to see Spencer leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom.

“Hi,” you said, smiling. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Sure.”

He made his way over. You poured him a cup and handed it to him, but he set it down on the kitchen table, opting to take you into his arms instead. You stood there for a few moments in silence, your hands on his chest, the only sound being the music playing softly from across the room. A strange feeling overtook you. You looked up at him.

“Do you want to dance?” you asked. Was that a blush on his cheeks?

“I uh… I don’t know how.”

“It’s easy. Look, take my hand-”

You held your arm out and he took your hand hesitantly.

“- and you put your arm here, on my waist.”

You guided his other hand to your waist before setting your free hand on his shoulder.

“Now what?” he asked.

“You go where the music takes you.”

He stood there almost rigidly, so you started to sway back and forth slowly. He caught on, moving with you steadily. He was warm, and you felt safe here in this moment. You rested your head on his chest. It was simple. Just you and him and the music, bathed in the morning sunlight.

Your phone alarm went off, startling the both of you. You unwillingly tore yourself away from him to grab the food out of the oven. You started on the eggs, hearing him sit at the table behind you. You knew he was watching, could feel his gaze on you, but you ignored it. You made a plate for him and yourself before sitting across from him. You were halfway through breakfast when he cleared his throat. You looked up at him from your food.

“Before… everything… you called me. You never call, was there something you wanted to talk about?”

You had thought he had forgotten about it. Did you still feel the same way you did then?

“Um, yeah.”

You set your fork down, taking a sip of your coffee to steel yourself. You were suddenly extremely nervous, butterflies filling your stomach. You stared at your plate before speaking.

“I mean it’s not really a big deal or anything, it doesn’t mean that much, really-”

“Just tell me,” Spencer urged. You sighed.

“I don’t know, I was thinking and I was just wondering if you were okay with being exclusive?”

Your voice petered out at the end and you glanced up to see the look on his face. It was almost unreadable. You started to panic a little bit, trying to backpedal as fast as you could.

“It’s really not a big deal if you say no, and I’m not asking for a relationship or anything. It would just make me feel more comfortable. But this isn’t really a good time for this conversation, I shouldn’t have sprung it on you. And you don’t have to answer now, and if you don’t feel the same that’s okay, re-”

“Hey.”

He looked at you earnestly.

“I would like that,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he replied, smiling softly. 

“Okay. Cool.”

You resisted the urge to breathe a sigh of relief. You knew it wasn’t that big of a deal, you were just coworkers (friends?) with benefits. But it still meant something to you to be so vulnerable and ask for something like this. Asking put you in a position of weakness, made you feel like you wanted this more than he did. You knew that probably wasn’t true, but it still felt like it anyways. Either way, since he had just asked you a personal question, it was your turn.

“Spence?”

“Yeah?” 

He looked up at you over his coffee mug.

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk about yesterday?”

You had been worrying about him all morning. He set his coffee mug down on the table, taking a moment to wipe at his mouth with a napkin.

“I’m alright. I would prefer not to talk about it, though.”

“Yeah, of course,” you nodded. He hadn’t pushed you to talk when you were having a difficult time; it was only fair that you gave him that same courtesy. 

“So… what do you want to do today?”


	26. Cold

Spencer was pissed. The team had a case out of state, and even though the doctors had said Spencer was cleared to travel, Hotch wanted him to sit it out with Penny at home. Spencer didn’t usually spill his guts to anyone, not even you, but he did throw around the word “bullshit” and “asshole” through texts to you, which made you feel like maybe he was not in the best state of mind. Hotch was probably right to keep him away. But you couldn’t tell that to Spencer, because agreeing with Hotch would almost certainly make Spencer clam up on you, and you were enjoying the open communication. 

You couldn’t get past what had happened last weekend though, holding him while he cried. After the initial incident, after all the questioning from the team, he hadn’t spoken a word about it. It was if it had never happened. He would get quiet when anyone would mention the open case, sometimes even leave the room. He was quieter in general anyways, although he would get irritated more easily than normal. You tried to spend as many nights with him as possible because you knew it helped him sleep, but work and other things got in the way. You felt bad about not being there for him.

You talked to him every day while you were gone. He was sitting in Garcia’s office most of the time, so you could hear him over the phone and even spoke to him a little bit. You were so busy that you couldn’t really text much, and you certainly weren’t going to call for fear that someone would overhear you, but you still enjoyed hearing from him. It just wasn’t the same when he wasn’t there. 

He seemed more unpredictable than normal, asking if you could come see him the second the plane landed. You agreed, knowing he was probably lonely and sleep-deprived since he hadn’t been sleeping next to anyone else. When you knocked on his door, he let you in immediately, almost as if he had been standing there waiting for you to show up. He had a blank expression on his face, and that worried you because you were never sure what mood he would be in. He let you into his apartment wordlessly and you walked in, setting your stuff down by the door and turning to look at him as he closed the door behind you.

“Hi,” you said, trying to break the silence.

You had no time to prepare yourself for what came next. He reached out quickly, his hand suddenly on your throat, squeezing more than you were used to. You choked, throwing your hands up to his wrists and backing away from him in surprise while your brain tried to process what was going on. Except there was nowhere for you to go. So you stood there, hands tugging uselessly at his arm while he looked down at you, face still blank.

“Yes or no?” he asked.

What the fuck? What kind of foreplay was this? After you had a moment to think, you nodded cautiously at him anyways. You were curious to see what was going to happen. 

“Yes,” you said, remembering that he likes verbal confirmation.

He smirked lightly. He let go of your throat, opting to thread his fingers through your hair. And then he was yanking at it, pulling you with him as he walked into the living room. You cried out in pain, stumbling along next to him and instinctively reaching up to grab at his hands again to loosen his grip. Before you could get your balance back, he was tossing you forward onto the ground, releasing your hair. You fell _hard,_ scraping your hands across the rug as you tried to catch yourself. 

Your head was spinning, the pain in your skull already starting to fade as you tried to catch your breath, looking up at Spencer from the floor. He stood there silently, looking down at you with eyes that were almost cold. This was unlike anything you’d seen from him before.

“Take your pants off,” he ordered. You didn’t need to be told twice. If he was willing to inflict pain when you hadn’t done anything wrong, you weren’t sure what you were going to get if you disobeyed him. He was already unzipping his jeans, and seemed to be frustrated with the fact that you were struggling to get yours off fast enough. He fell to his knees in front of you, sighing exasperatedly before forcefully grabbing at your jeans and pulling them off quickly. He was so rough it was bordering on painful. You wouldn’t admit it, but it definitely turned you on.

You didn’t have time to think about it further because he was flipping you over onto your stomach. You caught yourself on your hands and knees. You tried to look back at him, but he grabbed at your hair, forcing your head forward without a word. And then he was pressing his dick into you. He didn’t even give you any time to adjust before he was slamming into you, your body lurching forward onto the floor. It almost hurt, how hard he was inside of you. He hadn’t even bothered to take his jeans off, and they were chafing your thighs and ass every time he thrust into you. You bit you lip and dug your palms into the carpet as much as you could, trying to hold yourself up. You knew your knees were already done for, the rough carpet rubbing at your skin uncomfortably.

His hands were on your hips now, gripping you so hard that you were sure that you would have bruises later. Your body was finally starting to adjust, the slight pain you felt earlier giving way to pleasure. You had started to moan quietly, but Spencer was silent. You felt him lean down, his breath hot and quick on the back of your neck. Without any warning he bit you, his teeth sinking into the skin where your neck met your shoulder so deep that you thought you might bleed. It hurt so fucking badly, it brought tears to your eyes. You squeezed your eyes shut and clenched your teeth, trying not to make a sound. A whimper slipped out between your lips though, and you felt him straighten back up, still pounding into you quickly from behind.

“Fucking take it,” he demanded harshly.

“I’m- I’m trying,” you replied breathlessly, desperately trying to hold yourself up. Your arms were starting to hurt, and even locking your elbows wasn’t doing much good for you. One of his hands left your hip for a moment, and then he smacked your ass so hard that you fell forward, your arms giving out beneath you.

“Try harder.”

You could feel your pussy clench around him, and he moaned. You could never get enough of that sound. It was a subject of pride for you, that you were the only person who would get to hear him like this. He smacked you again and you yelped in pain and surprise. He didn’t last much longer after that, continuing to slap you until his thrusts became more erratic, coming inside of you. After a few moments he pulled out and then was gone, his footsteps fading away somewhere into the apartment.

You rolled over onto your side so you could get your knees off of the harsh carpet, resting your hot face on your arms as you searched the room for him. You tried to keep your ass off of the floor when you did so; it still stung from how hard he had hit you. Where did he go? You were sweaty and still panting, extremely wet between your thighs, and the sudden de-escalation and removal of warmth had you shivering. 

He was back again, a rag and a little kit in his hands. What was he doing? Was he going to finish you off or not? You were getting impatient, yet he took his time. He got on his knees again, placing his hand on your hip. There were a few small wet spots on the front of his jeans and you flushed thinking about how you had made them.

“Roll over,” he said softly, guiding you onto your back. You hissed when your ass met the carpet; it was really going to hurt for a few days. You were distracted from the pain when you felt him part your thighs. You looked down at his face between your legs and you squirmed, trying to keep your patience. But rather than finishing you off, he took the rag with warm water and cleaned you up instead, wiping carefully at your skin. You frowned.

“Spencer-”

You had started to whine, but was cut short by the look he gave you.

“Later.”

He went back to cleaning you up silently, covering your scraped knees in Neosporin before wrapping loose bandages around them. He helped you stand and moved behind you, rubbing lotion onto your ass where he had hit you. It stung, and you could feel how the skin there was still hot and irritated. 

You were trying to figure out what was off. Usually sex with him was personal, an experience that both of you enjoyed. It’s not that you didn’t enjoy yourself just now; you had a great time and he made you feel good (mostly), but you were worried about how detached he was. This wasn’t normal for him. You remembered when he had said he used sex to cope with work. He had been angry all week, of course this kind of scenario made sense. But it was different, like you two were strangers, and that just didn’t sit right with you. He hadn’t even kissed you. By this time, he had worked his way up to your neck, massaging lightly where he had bitten you.

“You night need makeup for this one,” he said, sounding embarrassed.

“Are you joking?” you asked incredulously.

“We’ll see in the morning,” he said, turning you around to face him. He seemed back to normal, not cold or detached. You were confused. Was it all an act or did he just really need this? Although it was kind of hot to be the only person he would go to with his sexual frustration, you couldn’t help but feel a little used. His outbursts earlier in the week had also been worrying you.

“Spencer, are you… okay?”

He looked quizzically at you, his lips turning up into a small smile.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

There was definitely something wrong. He doesn’t play off his emotions like that. He knew you weren’t convinced, but rather than giving you time to push the subject he walked you over to the couch, having you lie down on your stomach. He threw a blanket over you, tucking you in to keep you warm.

“Dinner will be here soon,” he said, kissing you on the forehead. He turned the tv on and sat on the floor in front of your legs, leaning back so he could rest his head on your thigh.

“How was the flight home?” he asked nonchalantly, staring at the tv.

“Fine. Normal,” you replied, still wary. “How was your week?”

“It was alright. Garcia and I had a lot of fun.”

“I’m glad! You two needed some quality time.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, leaning his head back further against you and closing his eyes. You turned your head slightly so you could watch him rather than face the tv. You could tell that he hadn’t been sleeping. The skin around his nails looked frayed, as if he had been biting it off anxiously. You bit back the urge to ask him anymore questions.

A knock sounded at the door. Spencer started and got up quickly, talking to the delivery person before coming back with a pizza box. He moved the coffee table closer to you and set the box on top, opening it and handing you a slice. Your mouth watered, but you waited until after he had grabbed some as well before you sat up and took a bite.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, your mouth half full of food. He chuckled, leaning over to wipe at something on your lips.

“It’s no problem, darling.”

-

Things seemed like they were back to normal. He took care of you that night, helping you shower and finishing you off before bed like he said he would. But there was something about the way he had looked at you when you got home and the unusual roughness of his touch that night that had you thinking there was something off.

He never spoke about what had happened to him, and he didn’t want to talk about how he felt, which made you think that he was hiding something or purposely running from whatever he was feeling. You sneakily checked his arms every day or two to make sure that his sobriety was in check, and it seemed to be holding up. But he was still slightly distant, going through the motions without actually being there. About a week later, he was at your place when you decided to bring it up again.

“Spencer?”

He looked up from his book over at you. You shifted your feet around in his lap, trying to get more comfortable.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing fine. How are _you_ feeling?”

You almost frowned. Why was he deflecting this back onto you?

“I’m okay. I’m a little worried about you, though.”

“Why? There’s nothing to worry about. I’m just fine.” 

He turned back to his book, effectively ending the conversation.

“No, you’re not,” you retorted, sitting up straight on your side of the couch and pulling your feet away from him. He glanced over at you again.

“I really don’t think you’re the best judge of that.”

That was uncharacteristically rude of him. You frowned.

“Anyone who knows you can see that there’s something off. You’re not talking to me and I’m worried.”

He closed his book and tossed it onto the coffee table with an exasperated sigh.

“I _said_ it was fine. Can we stop with the interrogation, now?”

“No, because you’re lying. You don’t have to talk about it, I just want you to admit that something’s wrong.”

There’s nothing wrong!” he raised his voice. You pushed back the urge to jump. He almost never raised his voice, and he could see by the look on your face that he had startled you.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said softly, leaning over slowly to place a hand on your cheek. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“I know, it’s just-”

He interrupted you with a delicate kiss, and you kissed him back. You tried to pull away to finish your sentence, finish your conversation, but suddenly his hands were holding your face in place as his kisses became deeper, more aggressive. You got lost in the moment and soon he had you panting as he bit at your lip, his hands moving down to your shoulders and squeezing them possessively as he forced you further down into the couch. His lips were on your neck and you were regaining your breath when you realized what he was doing.

“Spencer, hey-”

You tried to reach up to his face but he forced your arm back down on to the cushions, nipping at your skin and sending chills down your spine. You fought the feeling, trying to get his attention.

“No, I’m serious, look-”

You tried to wiggle out from underneath him, trying not to let him distract you from your goal, but then he was kissing you again, holding you down so you couldn’t get away. You started to panic a little bit. What if he didn’t stop? You refused to kiss him back and started thrashing under his grasp, pulling your knees up closer to your stomach and pushing them up at him as hard as you could, forcing him to let up on you. The second his mouth left yours you were squirming, trying to throw him off of you.

“Spencer, stop it! I want to stop!”

He got off of you completely, returning to his side of the couch with a confused look on his face. The both of you were breathing heavily, staring at each other.

“I’m sorry,” he started, “I-”

“You don’t just do things like that, Spencer!” you scolded, sitting up and trying to become as small as you could on your side of the couch. Your heart was racing. There was a split second where you had thought he wasn’t going to stop.

“Really, I-”

“No,” you cut him off. “You honestly cannot actually think that having sex with me is going to make me forget about what’s going on with you. There’s no way that you think I’m that stupid.”

He was speechless, opening his mouth and then closing it again. You felt a little pang of hurt in your heart but, rather than getting upset over the insult, you let your anger take over instead. 

“You really thought you could manipulate me like that? I’m not some random person you pick up, Spencer. I’m your friend, and I’m _worried_ about you, but I can see now that you don’t want to be bothered.”

“It’s not like that,” he replied, his voice hardening.

“Then what is it like?” you demanded. 

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“I’m trying! I’m trying to understand, I really am. I’m not forcing you to go in depth or relive anything, I just want you to admit to me that there’s something wrong so that we can start to work toward fixing it together. I just want to help.”

“I don’t have a problem and I don’t need your help.”

His eyes were cold, his body language stiff. He was lashing out at you, and you knew that you needed to be gentle with him. But you had been gentle for weeks and he had been adamant that he was fine when he clearly wasn’t.

“You don’t mean that,” you replied.

“Yes, I do.”

The two of you glared at each other from across the couch. You were about to say something else when he stood up abruptly, grabbing his book off of the coffee table.

“I’m going home.”

You sat there in shock for a moment.

“What?”

He moved to grab his bag and then you were on your feet. You didn’t know what you were going to do, but the last thing you wanted was for him to leave when he was so vulnerable like this. You caught him by the front door, grabbing his arm as he reached for the knob. He looked down at you, his face guarded as he shook you off.

“I’ll see you later.”

He slammed the door behind himself, making you jump. For some stupid reason, you felt your eyes start to get prickly with tears. This was so stupid! You were just trying to help. You stood there for a few moments feeling helpless. You had two options; stay, or follow him. You grabbed your phone and keys and threw on some shoes, rushing down the stairs. You could fix this, you knew you could.

He wasn’t in the building anymore so you ran outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. You half ran down the street for a few blocks, trying to catch up to him, but he was nowhere to be found. You knew this was the way he took home; where was he? You got all the way down to the metro turnstiles before you gave up. You didn’t have a card on you, so you couldn’t get down to the trains to see him. You pulled out your phone and called him, but it went straight to voicemail.

He didn’t want to talk. You left a message anyways, telling him that you were concerned and that you cared about him, before turning around to head back home dejectedly. You debated on packing a bag and driving over to his place just to make sure he was okay. He had definitely crossed some boundaries but he hadn’t hurt you, and you knew that it was crucial to get to him soon, before he unraveled. You decided on your way back to the building that you were going to go see him. Saturday night traffic would be a bitch so he would probably beat you there, but you knew that it was the thought that counted.

You were walking into your building when someone came rushing out, shoulder checking you as he went. He was going so fast that his messenger bag bumped into you, scratching your arm up as he blew past you.

“Ow! Watch where you’re going!” you called after him, disgruntled. Fuck, that _really_ hurt. You were about halfway up the first flight of stairs when you started to feel it. You were woozy, almost to the point of nausea. What? And then it clicked.

Oh no. No no no.

You fumbled for your phone, pulling it out of your pocket as quickly as you could. You dropped it flat on the stairs. Your fingers felt like they were falling asleep, but without the pins and needles. Panic was overtaking you. You needed to move fast. You bent down, your whole body tipping over as you fell onto your side. You tried to grab at the railing and couldn’t, slipping down a few steps as you went. You barely felt the pain, you were losing feeling everywhere.

You scrabbled up a few steps and grabbed at your phone, unlocking it as fast as you could. Spencer was the closest, but you knew he wasn’t going to answer. Your vision was starting to glaze over, but you were able to get to your recent calls, your shaking fingers pressing what you thought was Hotch’s name. You didn’t even get the chance to put the phone up to your ear before someone plucked it out of your hand, ending the call right in front of you before it even rang twice. You were so out of it you couldn’t even look up to see who it was. Not like it mattered, because the last thing you remembered was a man’s boot and a searing pain in the back of your head before it all went black.


	27. Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Needles

Spencer’s POV

It had become something like a sick game to Spencer. How horribly could he treat you before you snapped, before you realized you’d had enough? He had been doing it to everyone without a second thought, just because he could, and he hated himself for it. He was out of control, and it made him nauseous to think about what he had done to you. Yet at almost every moment he was stuck thinking about the next thing he could do to you or someone else, like a repulsive cockroach inside of his brain that he couldn’t kill. He was self-destructing, and he was taking you down with him. He had almost hurt you today.

He couldn’t quite describe the insurmountable rage that would unexpectedly come over him, the random urge to destroy and tear down the entire world just because he could. 

Just because he could…

Throughout the week he caught glimpses of the disgusting marks he had left on your skin when you had gotten home last week, and they made him feel sick. Because he hadn’t left those marks out of passion or love, he left them as a reminder that he had control over you, a sign that he could use you however he wanted and you would _let_ him. He had apologized over and over again for it, but you had brushed it off. Whether you forgave him or not, it was an abuse of power and a revolting one at that. It was inexcusable. That wasn’t who he was, and yet you still trusted him. He didn’t deserve that trust. He didn’t deserve you.

He didn’t want to think about it. But the disappointed look on your face today, the slight fear, came to the forefront of his mind every time. You were just trying to help and he _knew_ that, but he was pushing you away all the same. He needed help. He knew it, you knew it, probably everyone did. Hotch definitely did. 

You had called him on the train, but he didn’t feel like talking. Finally home, Spencer sighed, throwing his phone onto the couch and roaming into the kitchen to make some tea. Maybe it would make him feel better?

It didn’t.

He kept mulling over the conversation with you. He didn’t want to dump all of his issues on you, but he should at least talk to _somebody_. As much as he detested the idea, he made a mental note to make an appointment with someone Monday morning for later in the week. He was hurting himself and the people he cared about, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep doing this before he did irreparable damage.

It was just… how could he explain how empty he felt inside? Like there was a black hole somewhere in his chest, sucking in every good thing he had and keeping it there, hidden from his reach. He had been dissociating, even having flashbacks every once in awhile. It wasn’t as bad when you were there with him because you grounded him with your words or a small touch, but it was still difficult. It was almost infuriating how he couldn’t quite break out of the cycle; he knew there was something wrong, could feel it in his mind and body, but his knee-jerk reaction was to act out in anger or plain deny that there was an issue because that’s what he always did. But acting out had turned into a completely separate monster entirely, one that Spencer couldn’t control, that reared its ugly head at a whim and lashed out for no reason at all.

And look where it got him. You _had_ to be upset at him, but Spencer wasn’t sure if you were furious or just crying. Probably both. He hated seeing you cry; it absolutely tore him apart from the inside out, and it made it worse that he seemed to be the only person there to ever see it. He liked that you came to him for comfort, but could barely stand to see the hurt in your eyes, the way you crumpled in on yourself, apologizing constantly for feeling normal human emotions. This time, he was the one who had done that to you, and for some reason the disgusting part of him had rejoiced in the fact that he could do that to you. You would finally see who he really was. What he had turned into. 

He listened to your voicemail later that night. Actually, he listened to it four times before he called you back. Not like he needed to; he had memorized it on the first listen. The worry in your voice through the phone was clear, and it was heart-wrenching to think about how he had ignored you when you so obviously had his best interests at heart. He barely had a handle on himself and his destructive impulses, and he had attacked you when all you were doing was showing concern. What he had done to you was wrong on so many levels and he needed to apologize, though he wasn’t near enough worthy of your forgiveness. You didn’t answer your phone that night. He tried to call you the next day too, even texted you sorry and that he wanted to talk, but you were silent.

He was miserable. He told himself over and over how he deserved this, how he deserved to be hated because of the terrible things he was doing. Yet he couldn’t stop, and now you were realizing how horribly toxic he was, how fucked up he had gotten over the past month. He was dreading the upcoming conversation where you told him you couldn’t stand to be around him anymore, that you hated him. He already hated himself.

Were you going to leave? Or would you stay, and treat him as if he didn’t exist? He was going to have to watch you grow, blossom without him because he was holding you back, watch you find happiness with somebody else because he wasn’t enough for you. He selfishly wanted to hold on to you, but he knew that right now he was only doing damage, pushing his own unhappiness onto you and everyone else because he wasn’t strong enough to contain it inside himself.

His train ride to work on Monday was hell. He was anxious, shifting his weight from foot to foot and picking at the skin on the side of his nails. What was he going to say to you? What were you going to say to him? Probably nothing, honestly. You compartmentalized your relationship with him well; you were friendly at work, but because he stepped over the line, you were probably just going to freeze him out until you were ready to talk.

You usually beat him to the office, but you weren’t there this morning. Maybe you got stuck in traffic? Nope. Thirty minutes had passed, and you still hadn’t arrived. Speaking of, where was Emily? It was strange for anyone on the team to be late, much less two people on the same day. What were the odds? He calculated the probability in his head quickly. He didn’t like the numbers.

It had been an hour now, still nothing from the both of you. Spencer made his way to Hotch’s office, knocking on the open door to announce himself. Hotch looked up from his desk, his brow already furrowed in what looked like concern. Spencer didn’t need to say a word; Hotch already knew. 

Spencer gathered the team while Hotch went straight to Garcia. They congregated in her tiny office while she checked phone signals. Neither you nor Emily had left your apartments for the weekend. Garcia had tracked phone activity too; from the looks of it, you had gone to the Metro Saturday afternoon before turning back and going home. Not that the team knew why. Spencer’s heart sunk. You had made one last call at your place, but that was it. It had been a day and a half. Emily’s phone hadn’t been active since Friday, more than two days ago. 

Both phones said that they were at your respective apartments, but the lack of activity was enough of a sign to know what had happened. Spencer went with Rossi to your place while Hotch, JJ, and Derek went to Emily’s. They all knew Emily the best; they would know what to make of it. Whether the team acknowledged it or not (at this point they probably would), Spencer knew you better than everyone else. It was the most logical decision to make, him going to your place, and yet he was dreading every second that passed as Rossi drove closer and closer to the apartment, the same words repeating over and over again in his head. 

_It’s your fault._

It was clear now that you had chased after him on Saturday. If he had just walked a little slower, if he had answered your call or turned back around, if he hadn’t purposely started that fight in the first place…

That’s why you had never answered your phone. Maybe you didn’t hate him. But that little fact wouldn’t matter if you were dead.

Rossi had looked confusedly at him when he knew exactly where your spare key was hidden, but Spencer chose to ignore him. Everything looked exactly as he had left it a day and a half ago. The coffee mugs that the both of you had been using were still on the coffee table, the blanket on the couch half hanging on the floor the same way it had been when you had jumped up to stop him from leaving. The dishes were still unwashed in the sink, your bedroom door still open and your sheets still tangled up in a mess at the foot of the bed the way he had left them yesterday morning.

Your phone was sitting in the middle of the kitchen table, right next to your keys. But Spencer knew that you always put your keys by the front door because you lost them constantly, and you almost never used the table unless you had company over. Nothing else was out of place, other than the fact that you weren’t there. Spencer’s legs almost gave out. He placed his hand on the back of your armchair, gripping as tightly as he could to try to hold himself up. You were gone. He had known from the start that you wouldn’t be there, but he had held out hope that you were okay, that you’d be in bed still asleep, curled up under your blankets peacefully. He tried to keep a straight face as despair overtook him. He couldn’t do this.

“Let’s take a look around,” Rossi suggested, starting to move into the room. Spencer did it with him just for show, knowing there wasn’t going to be any evidence left behind. There never was. The whole ordeal was bringing back memories of his own abduction, and he fought back the panic that was threatening to come to the surface. Were they hurting you and Emily just like they had done to him? The thought made him feel physically sick. His world was crumbling apart before his eyes, and it took everything he had not to break down on the spot. He was going to have to relive his own experience through your eyes. If he had just stayed with you…

Spencer knew Rossi was going to make a comment about there being someone else here, how you hadn’t been alone. He figured now was a good time to come clean about it, because keeping quiet would make it seem like there was something to hide.

“Everything looks the same as it did on Saturday when I left.”

Here came that look again.

“You were here?”

“We usually have breakfast or lunch together at least once on the weekends. Whenever we’re free.”

That wasn’t technically a lie.

“I didn’t know you two were that close.”

Spencer shrugged, trying to keep his face in check, wringing his hands together so that Rossi wouldn’t notice that they were shaking. Rossi’s statement didn’t warrant an answer, so there was no reason why Spencer needed to say anything else.

“Are you okay?”

Spencer knew that Rossi asked out of concern, but that still didn’t stop his anger from flaring up. How come everyone kept asking him that? He bit back a rude reply, trying to get himself in order before he spoke. Did he look fucking okay? You were gone and it was his fault. He had left you when you needed him.

“I’m worried,” Spencer finally replied.

After a few moments, Spencer turned to Rossi. No point in wasting time. You and Emily were somewhere else, going through god knows what, while the team was just standing there, letting it happen.

“There’s nothing here. We should go.”

-

Your POV

Someone was calling your name. Your brain was too foggy though, so you couldn’t quite place who it was. It sounded familiar. You tried to open your eyes, but you couldn’t muster up the energy to do so. Your limbs felt heavy. Why were you sitting up if you were asleep? Maybe you fell asleep in the armchair again? No, too uncomfortable.

What was going on?

You realized you couldn’t move your arms. You slowly gained the strength to open your eyes. It took your brain a moment to process what you were seeing. Was that…?

“Emily?” you asked, your voice raspy.

She was sitting facing you, tied to a chair about 20 feet away. It took you a few moments to realize why it looked so familiar; she was bound up just like Spencer had been a month ago. Spencer? Where was he? Wasn’t he with you?

“You’re awake. Good. We need to get out of here.”

“Give me a minute,” you mumbled. Your thoughts were all over the place. It was like you were digging for something but couldn’t quite reach it. You looked around, trying to place where you were. A nondescript concrete room. No windows, just annoying incandescent bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Ugh, you hated the gross yellow lighting. You were tied to a chair too, your wrists and ankles bound to the arms and legs of the metal seat. This was uncomfortable.

“I need you to focus,” Emily urged. You slowly turned to look at her again. You knew you should be worried because she was worried, but you just couldn’t concentrate. You felt woozy, almost nauseous. How was she so alert? Her bloodshot eyes were darting everywhere and she was practically shaking in her chair, as if she was trying to move around but couldn’t.

“Em… what are you on?”

You struggled just to finish your sentence. It was like you were there mentally but not able to be there completely outside of your head, and she was too present, almost hyperactive.

“I think I’m on some kind of uppers. I can’t even sleep. How do you feel? Are you on anything?”

Her words were almost rushed. She was probably right.

“I don’t know. Just… tired.”

Your brain couldn’t quite connect the dots. There was more than just that, and you knew it, but those were the only words that could come out of your mouth.

“Downers,” Emily observed, still vibrating in her chair. Huh. Smart idea, honestly. You two were your own worst enemies at the moment.

“What were you doing when they got you? I was getting my mail.”

You tried to think back. What were you doing?

“Spencer. I was… I was with Spencer.”

Emily blanched.

“Then why isn’t he here?”

“He left.”

“So he wasn’t with you? Did they get you at your apartment? His place? A restaurant? Inside? Outside?”

“No, they uh…” your head was almost starting to hurt from how hard you were trying to get the words out, “outside. They got me outside my place.”

“Both close to home. They knew where we all live. This is bad. They can stage it, make it look like we’re at home. They took me on Friday night. When did they get you? What day is it?”

“It was… Saturday afternoon,” you replied.

“Shit. Okay, okay, it’s fine. So it’s been at least 24 hours. They haven’t touched me other than to dose me up. No questions, nothing. There’s at least three of them. All white males that I can tell, all wear masks. No accents of any kind, no identifying features. I don’t recognize them at all.”

At this point Emily was just thinking out loud.

“I wonder if they’ll take anyone else. All of us live alone except for Hotch and JJ, we’re all targets at this point. It doesn’t have to do with age, because Spencer is the youngest and then it’s you, but I’m older than Derek. But the more of us they take, the riskier it gets. It’s risky to even have us in the same room together. They’re escalating.”

“Didn’t we say… I’m not a threat?”

“You have to mean something to them, because they would have killed you a month ago when they had the chance. They’re keeping us alive, but for what I don’t know. We have at least another 36 hours before they even notice we’re gone. Fuck!”

She was writhing around in her chair. You felt kind of bad, like you weren’t even trying, but you barely had the energy to hold your head up and look at her, much less struggle with restraints that you knew weren’t going to fail anyways. You felt your brain trying to freak out, trying to warn you, but all you could do was sit there under the waves of numbness. Logically you knew there was something wrong, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus enough to elaborate on it. 

“I’m tired, Em…”

“You need to stay awake. I can’t do this on my own, I need you to stay with me.”

The doors burst open with a bang and Emily jumped. You started slightly, your mind taking longer to process the sound than it normally would have.

“You’re awake!” one of the men exclaimed, moving over into your eyeline. He was tall, at least over 6 feet. You could tell he was strong under all of the clothing. The second man moved around to Emily. He was shorter, but way more built than the tall one. They both had dumb ski masks on, so you couldn’t make out their faces underneath. How original. The tall one put his hand on the top of your head, tilting it back so that you had to look up at him. 

“Look at you! We’re so glad that you could finally join us!”

There was mirth in his voice, and it made your stomach churn. What kind of sadistic bullshit was this? He let go of you so that you were facing Emily again. She had her poker face on; you knew she wouldn’t crack under pressure. But it seemed like they knew that, too.

“Emily! How are you feeling?” the tall man bantered. She refused to even look up at him, opting to stare stoically at the wall behind you.

“Sorry, I don’t think you quite heard me. Let me ask you again.”

He reeled back without warning and punched you square in the face before you could process what was going on. Pain blossomed on one of your cheekbones as you let out a sharp cry of surprise, taking a moment to process the hit before turning your face back to Emily. The worst part was that you knew whatever you were on was already dulling the pain. It would be much worse later.

“How are you feeling, Emily?” There was no joy in his voice anymore.

You made eye contact with her and shook your head as imperceptibly as you could. She couldn’t answer them right now, because if she did, it would set a precedent. They would know that hurting you would cause Emily to spill and give them what they wanted. So Emily stayed silent and stone-faced in her chair, the only sign of distress being one of her legs jiggling from the drugs. 

“Not in the mood to talk? That’s okay. Maybe Y/N is.”

He knelt down next to you, his brown eyes peering at you through the mask. You tried not to look at him despite your curiosity, staring straight at Emily instead.

“How are _you_ feeling?”

You kept your face as blank as possible. You could feel your heart beating rapidly; you were scared that your disobedience would cause Emily pain. The man reached over to your face and forced you to look at him. After a moment, he cocked his head to the side. You could tell by the movement under the mask that he was smiling.

“Not the talkative type, huh? We don’t actually need you to talk for this one.”

He pulled a little cloth zippered kit from one of his pockets somewhere. It looked like a lock-picking kit. But when he opened it up, there were syringes instead of tools. You glanced over at Emily fearfully, and you could see that she was trying to keep her cool. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt a needle enter your arm, purposely not making any more eye contact with the tall one. Whatever he put into your arm was cold, and in no time you could feel yourself start to drift off. It wasn’t quite unlike being in the hospital that one time with Spencer. It seemed like forever ago.

-

Your mind was clearer when you woke up. So clear, in fact, that you could register the pain before your eyes even opened. You were hoping that it would go away, but it just hurt worse and worse as you came into consciousness. You ached everywhere. If you were on some kind of drugs before, you definitely weren’t now. You opened your eyes to see Emily still jittering in her chair.

“Em?”

She whipped her head around to look at you, guilt written all over her face.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Know what?”

Ugh, your face hurt! It wasn’t just from the hit you got before you passed out, it was something else. Your lip felt puffy, and you realized there was the faint taste of blood in your mouth. Was that scratchy feeling dried blood on your chin?

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Are you hurt too badly?”

“I’ll manage,” you replied. You had a moment to look around at yourself, take stock. You had bruises forming along your arms, and you could see shallow cuts in the flesh there. That’s where the aching came from. Your neck was a little sore. You flexed your fingers and toes, immediately feeling a shooting pain through your left wrist. You gasped, not expecting it to hurt so badly.

“Broken or sprained?”

“I- I can’t tell. It’s bad, though.” You could feel it throbbing under your restraints. You looked back up at Emily.

“What did they do to me?”

“They beat you. Cut you up while they asked me questions.”

“What else? What did they want to know?”

“It’s best I don’t say anything at all. The more that you know, the more danger you’re in.”

“It’s a little late for that.”

“I know. But you know how this is, I can’t say anything. They, um…” she paused, gathering her breath, “you need to brace yourself. They said you might not get to sleep through the next one.”

Your heart sank.

“You know why we’re here, then?”

“Technically speaking, yes. They want information that I have, and they know I’m trained for this kind of torture. But you… you’re not. You haven’t been in the game as long. You’re my motivation.”

“Just because I was an easy target.”

“Yes.”

You paused, letting that sink in.

“Are we getting out of here alive?”

She looked at you with uncertainty in her eyes.

“I don’t know.”


	28. Deteriorate

Spencer’s POV

Hotch had enforced the buddy system again, including Garcia in on the mix as well. Nobody was allowed to even be alone for a second, except for bathroom breaks. And even then, someone would have to wait outside the door or in the general vicinity. It was absolute hell. Spencer could feel himself breaking down, decomposing at an accelerated rate, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He needed time alone, time to process, time to cry, time to get his rage out, but all he got were those quiet moments in the bathroom or the shower. 

He went with Derek to the firing range in the middle of the night halfway through the week, the both of them trying to get their worries and aggression out that way. It seemed to help Derek, but Spencer wasn’t satisfied. He needed a way to physically expel the feelings from his body, whether it was through pain or other means. He had never understood why people punched holes in drywall until now. He fantasized about how satisfying it would feel to have that searing pain in his knuckles, to watch the wall crumble away under his own hand.

It was an unending task of watching traffic cameras and surveillance footage, of going through case files over and over again despite the fact that he had read all of them before, knew what all of them contained. Nothing nothing nothing. He was losing focus, losing momentum, wallowing in his own self-hatred and guilt.

Every day the pressure in his chest got worse, his temper flaring up more often. He could barely sleep anymore. He hadn’t been sleeping much beforehand anyways, only getting small reprieves on the nights he spent with you. Melatonin and even cough syrup didn’t help him, so he was stuck in an unending cycle of grogginess. His evenings were long, most of them spent lying awake on Derek’s couch or his own bed, thinking about where you and Emily were, about what was happening to you. Were you going to be in one piece when they found you? Would they ever find you? He found himself holding his phone up to his ear and listening to the messages you had left him, just so he could hear your voice.

On Thursday he went to see a specialist to try to help. He was no good to anyone if he couldn’t do his job correctly. He should have known that the first session was just introductory, that he wouldn’t be able to actually talk about what was weighing on him until next week. He didn’t have until next week. He needed to be better now. But that’s not how the world worked. That’s not how _trauma_ worked. 

Saturday was the day that he lost it. It had been a week now, still nothing. He was in the kitchen in the break room at the office, getting coffee. His hands were shaking more than they normally did; he was basically running on caffeine and 2-3 hours of sleep per night. He wasn’t watching where he was going, too lost in his own thoughts. He tripped over a chair leg, dropping his favorite mug straight onto the linoleum. The mug shattered, hot coffee splashing all over his pants and the floor. Derek burst in, probably startled by the loud noise, just in time to see the tears falling down Spencer’s cheeks. 

Derek paid no mind to the broken cup or the spilled coffee that was spreading. He took one look at the scene and strode straight over to Spencer, taking the shaking man into his arms and holding him as he fell apart. Spencer gripped Derek’s shirt in his fists, trying to hold on to some of his sanity, hold on to anything, as his body was wracked with sobs, his face buried into Derek’s shoulder.

They had been together all week. Derek had watched Spencer devolve, trying to intervene but getting shut out every time. It really was only a matter of time, and Spencer couldn’t help but think of how pitiful he was standing there in the kitchen, whimpering and crying like a child in the arms of a friend. 

When he had finally gotten control of himself what felt like eons later, Spencer stepped away slowly, wiping at his eyes as he sniffled loudly. Derek reached out a comforting hand, placing it on his shoulder softly. Spencer couldn’t even look him in the eyes. After a few moments of silence, Spencer turned around to grab some paper towels, kneeling on the floor to clean up his mess. Derek crouched next to him, helping him pick up the fragments of his broken mug and sop up the now cold coffee off of the ground.

No words were spoken. Derek grabbed Spencer’s go-bag from his desk, handing it to him so that he could change out of his stained pants. Spencer went to sit back at his desk afterwards, still sniffling, but Derek directed him to his office instead. Spencer stood in the doorway awkwardly, unsure of what Derek wanted. Derek turned the overhead lights off and turned on the small lamp on his desk, gesturing to the couch against the far wall of his office.

“Try to get some rest,” he said softly, moving to sit in his chair. Spencer didn’t have the will or capacity to argue. He curled up on the cool leather miserably, drawing a pillow underneath his head and dragging the small blanket over his body. Sleep overtook him almost instantly, and for the first time since you had been gone, he slept somewhat peacefully.

-

Your POV

You were almost afraid to see what you looked like in a mirror. Judging from what you could see of your already exposed skin, you weren’t sure you wanted to know. They had beat you to high heaven and back, green and yellow bruises making way for brand new red and purple ones. They had been throwing you around, kicking you while you were down on the ground, still tied up. That wasn’t even the worst thing they had done. Emily had stopped trying to soothe you about what you looked like awhile ago. She was a good liar, but not that good.

She was barely holding up as it was. They were dosing her up so much that she had maybe gotten a handful of hours of sleep throughout however many days you had been here. They fed the both of you very little, but were gratuitous enough to let you use the restroom in the far corner whenever they deemed you were allowed. That was the only form of humanity they showed the both of you, and even then it was degrading because they watched your expose yourselves every time. 

You were pretty sure that they were “taking care” of the both of you because you were more valuable alive rather than dead. But to be honest, Emily was way more valuable than you would ever be. You were a ragdoll that they tossed around and played with just for fun. She was the one with all the information. You had told her over and over again not to give in, no matter what. They made her watch as you writhed on the floor, screaming in pain. Sometimes you reminded her through your tears that you could take it. You were embarrassed to admit that other times you begged, pleaded with her to make it stop, desperation building up in your chest, consuming and overwhelming you with panic. Your throat was raw with how often you shrieked in pain, the loud pitch bouncing throughout the room every time. Sometimes you heard it when the sound echoed back to you; other times the men’s laughter drowned it out.

They made you watch as they waterboarded Emily a few times. You had screamed for them to stop the first time, but they usually only stopped when she passed out. They laughed when you cried, and you knew they were getting off by watching you get upset. So you had to become stone, trying to hold in your tears as you watched them mercilessly half-drown her. They were asking about people you had never heard of, names and places you didn’t know and couldn’t recall later. Most of the time Emily was silent, but she was only human. Sometimes she would reply, and you felt guilty because you knew it was mostly because she wanted to stop your suffering.

If Emily hadn’t been sleeping, you were sleeping too much. Between torture sessions they would drug you to isolate Emily, leave her alone with her thoughts and panic and exhaustion. You weren’t sure which was worse; being conscious or unconscious. When you were awake you were in constant pain, either being tortured yourself or watching them hurt Emily. When you were sleeping, you had no concept of time, no idea what was happening to Emily, and you had vivid and unsettling dreams, waking up every time feeling nauseous and groggy. The both of you were starting to develop the same track marks that Spencer had on his arm. You wondered if they would scar.

You were already scarred. You would be foolish to think you would get out of this without some kind of lasting mark. They had cut too deep into some places on your skin for you to be okay. At one point they had even branded you, shoving hot metal onto your shoulder. That had been the worst by far; the smell of melting flesh was almost enough to make you puke. You were pretty sure that one was infected. You had already passed out a few times, mostly from blood loss. They had slit your wrist open, laughing as the blood pooled onto the concrete below. 

You had thought you were going to die from that one. In the times between sessions where they allowed you to stay awake and alone with Emily, you had told her what you wanted for your body after you died. She already had a will, but you didn’t. She was more likely to survive, the both of you knew it, and you needed her to lay you to rest. You didn’t expect her to remember anything, though. She was delirious, almost incoherent most of the time now. Her words slurred almost as badly as yours did when you woke up from the drugs. 

Not like you were thinking straight either. Your chest hurt with every breath you took, and even the slightest movement sent a chain reaction of pain throughout your entire body. You had started to develop a slight cough, and you were pretty sure you were getting a fever. You had started to sweat more, chills running up and down your body every so often. The men noticed it too, poking and prodding at you and muttering to themselves. You were too out of it to even listen, consumed with your pain. You dreamed of a reprieve, an end to your suffering, but you had no such luck. Out came the needles, and the now-familiar pinch in your arm had you drifting off somewhere else.

-

Spencer’s POV

It came as a phone call to Hotch again early Monday morning, before the sun had even risen. There were barely any taunts compared to the call they had made for Spencer. There wasn’t even a guessing game involved. They gave the exact coordinates on where to find you and Emily. That thought was concerning. It meant that they wanted you found as quickly as possible, which meant that you were probably dead.

The coordinates led to a random back alley of some deserted part of town. It didn’t even look like there was anything there until the team got closer. There was a body, lying face down on the ground, discarded like trash. Spencer’s heart dropped the second he saw the person lying there as acid filled the back of his throat. They looked dead.

The paramedics swarmed around the body, and as everyone got closer, they realized it was you. Spencer stood back, trying not to throw up. It couldn’t end like this. It couldn’t. And where was Emily? Part of the team broke off, going to look for her. But Spencer was mesmerized by the scene in front of him, like a horrible train wreck he just couldn’t look away from.

You hadn’t moved an inch since everyone had gotten there. The paramedics flipped you over, and Spencer’s heart shattered. You were almost unrecognizable. There was so much bruising and swelling all over your face and body that he could barely tell it was you. You were covered in blood and dirt and god knows what else.

The paramedics had checked for a pulse, checked for breathing. You were alive, but barely. Spencer wondered morbidly how you had been able to stay unconscious through the commotion as the workers strapped you into a gurney and wheeled you off as quickly as they could. He quickly turned to Hotch for silent permission, panic starting to overtake him as he realized he might not get to the ambulance before they shut the doors. Hotch sharply nodded and Spencer took off, dashing after you.

There was barely room for him in the ambulance. They made him climb into the front to stay out of their way, but he twisted around in the seat to watch you. The driver was somewhat disgruntled that Spencer had chosen to forgo his seatbelt, but Spencer didn’t care in the slightest. They were hooking you up to machines and IVs, checking your heart rate, oxygen levels, other stuff that he couldn’t focus on. All he could do was watch as they tried to treat you, throwing words around here and there, things like broken bones, open wounds, sepsis. Spencer didn’t even have to calculate the odds; he knew the survival rate wasn’t good.

They had called the ER ahead of time, giving lists of what was wrong, what you needed so that they would be ready to help you. But when they got there, they wouldn’t let Spencer follow you all the way inside. They made him wait as they worked on you, not even letting him get close enough to watch. He was absolutely furious, demanding that your safety was of utmost importance, that you needed someone there. The nurse threatened to kick him out. 

So he waited outside of where you were, as close as they would possibly let him be, fuming. He checked his phone. The team had found no signs of Emily, they were on the way to him now. He tried to recall some of the things that the doctors and paramedics had been saying about you so that he could tell the team, but through his worry, he hadn’t been paying close enough attention to remember everything. However longer later it was (truly he didn’t know because he had lost track of all sense of time), they wheeled you out. The team hadn’t arrived yet, so Spencer followed after you, immediately interrogating the doctor about what was going on, about what had happened, about when you were going to wake up. The nurses tried to hold him back, but he was insistent, throwing his badge out and ignoring them anyways.

Apparently, you had started to wake up on the table when they were working on you, and at some point you suffered a seizure. It was so bad that they had sedated you and were deciding whether or not to put you into a medically induced coma, because they had no idea what else was fully wrong with you. You were mostly stable at the moment, so they were taking you now to get full body scans to try to get a good picture of what was damaged so that they could plan accordingly. 

Spencer didn’t ask for permission to tag along; he did it anyways, listening to the staff talk amongst themselves about you. It made him mad that they talked about you as if you were just another patient, another nameless case. He had told them your name and it was if they hadn’t even bothered to learn it. You were a big part of his world, yet they were treating you like you were just another face in the crowd.

There was a laundry list of things wrong with you, and they hadn’t even finished the blood work yet. They were most concerned about the sepsis, but seemed to have it under control. They had to put a cast on your left hand, bandage up almost half of your body, stick tons of needles in you just to stop the dehydration. There was enough brain swelling that they had decided to put you in a coma, at least for a little while, while they sorted everything else out.

The team had gotten there, and you had finally gotten a room. They stood around, looking down at you, talking to the doctor about what he thought had happened. Hearing it was almost enough to make Spencer cry. You didn’t deserve this. He wanted to touch you, hold your hand at least, but you looked so breakable there hooked up to so many different things. If anything, this gave him more resolve. He knew without a doubt that if he found who had done this to you, he would kill them.

-

You still weren’t conscious a few days later. The small cuts and bruises were already fading, the swelling had gone down so you looked like yourself again, but the big injuries were still a large problem. The team had been rotating shifts with you, but Spencer refused to leave, so everyone else had to constantly switch things around so that he was able to stay. It was Hotch’s turn this time, the two men sitting in silence on opposite sides of your bed. It had been hours before Hotch cleared his throat to speak.

“I don’t suppose now would be a good time to talk about your involvement together?”

Spencer glanced over at him before looking away again guiltily. It really was only a matter of time.

“It’s not like that.”

That seemed to be a recurring statement for him lately.

“Then what is it like, Doctor? It would be foolish of you to think that I’m the only person who’s noticed what’s going on between the two of you. I have half a mind to take you off of this case for reasons of personal involvement on your own part, not including whatever the two of you have been doing on the side. I need to know if this is going to affect your future judgement.”

Spencer knew that he should lie. Knew that the only way he could get his revenge was to say that he was fine, that he could handle it. But his ulterior motives didn’t come from ethical places and he was torn between wanting to exact revenge or do what was right. 

No, this wasn’t revenge. This was justice.

“Our personal relationship is not something you need to be concerned about,” Spencer stated. “It is completely professional and doesn’t affect our work in any way. And I am perfectly capable of compartmentalizing my feelings from this case.”

Hotch paused, deciding on whether or not he was going to press Spencer any further.

“I want you to understand that I am being gracious enough to allow you to continue with this because I trust your better judgement. But if there comes a moment that you slip up, I will not hesitate to ask you to stand down. Do I make myself clear, agent?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

-

The doctors had finally decided that you were okay enough to wake up. They had warned that you would be disoriented, and that having too many people in the room would probably make you nervous. Hotch decided that he would be the one to be there with you when you woke up, and that everyone would take turns seeing you individually so that you wouldn’t get too overwhelmed. Everyone watched from the windows as you slowly awoke, looking around confusedly and then fixating on Hotch. 

You had started to cry, and it took almost all of Spencer’s strength not to go in there himself. Instead, he watched as Hotch comforted you, handing you some tissues. Spencer thought that he should be in there, wiping those tears away himself rather than just letting you do it on your own. But the thought of Hotch or anybody else doing that for you didn’t sit right with him. So he stood silently, watching, waiting his turn. 

You talked to Hotch for longer than anyone had expected, squeezing your eyes shut periodically as if you were trying to remember something. Spencer watched your face go through so many emotions, some of them sad, most of them worry. He knew that you would be more worried about Emily than yourself, would probably try to coerce and lie your way out of the hospital to get yourself back into the field faster. Little did you know, Hotch had given direct orders that you not be allowed back into the field, especially for this case. You were on strict orders to stay at the office and work on anything else but this. Spencer had been different; he hadn’t been physically hurt the way you were, he had been doing this long enough to be able to handle it. He hadn’t been doing a great job recently, but he was working on it. On the other hand, you weren’t physically able to keep up at the moment and emotionally you were a wild card. Nobody knew how you were going to react, so it was safest to keep you away until everyone was sure. 

Spencer let everyone else visit you first before he went in. He didn’t plan on leaving after like they did, and they knew that. So he waited and waited and waited some more. Garcia took the longest. He watched as she cried and how you reached your arm out to comfort her, holding back tears yourself so that you could be strong for her. He watched as you smiled and tried to joke around with Derek when he went to see you, because that was the easiest way to keep him calm. You held Rossi’s hand, and JJ said that you had asked about Will and Henry to make sure that they were safe. You were who everyone else needed you to be, because it would make it easier for them. You were selfless. 

Finally, it was his turn. He had so much that he wanted to say, but his mind went blank when he saw the way you smiled at him from across the room.

“Hey, Spence.”

“Hey there.”

He sat in the chair next to you, awkwardly wringing his hands together. Should he reach out and hold your hand? Ask you how you were doing? Obviously not great, but he still wanted to know where you were at mentally anyways. Should he-

“Hey,” you said, drawing his attention back to you. “Are you doing alright?”

He looked at your crinkled forehead, your concerned eyes. It reminded him of the ambulance ride from a long time ago, the one where you had brushed your hand along his face.

“Don’t do that,” he found himself saying, his words soft.

“Do what?”

“Don’t take care of me right now. I’m not the one in the hospital bed.”

Your frown deepened, and he saw your body language become defensive. You always did this. He held back a smile at your obvious annoyance at his insistence that you take care of yourself before anyone else. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t have to know what I’m talking about. Just relax, okay? We don’t need you splitting open any stitches.”

Wrong thing to say. You winced and looked away, shifting around in your bed uncomfortably. Spencer kicked himself mentally. That’s not what he wanted to convey to you. He tried again.

“You asked me how I was doing, but I want to know about you. Are _you_ doing alright?”

He watched your face closely. He knew you better than anyone else on the team; he could usually tell when you were lying, or at least concealing part of the truth. You seemed to choose your words carefully, pausing a moment to think about it.

“I’m worried about Emily.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

You looked at him again with that deer in the headlights look you get when he calls you on your bluffs. Maybe now wasn’t the time.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Spencer amended. “I’m sure you’re tired of talking about it. I’m just… glad to see you.”

You smiled softly, seeming to relax a little bit when he let the subject drop. 

“I’m really glad to see you, too.”

He reached out then to hold your hand before realizing it was the one in the cast. You looked away and stifled a giggle as Spencer shifted around in his chair, blushing a bit.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. God, what a dumb thing to do. Speaking of dumb things…

“Hey.”

You looked back at him.

“I’m really sorry about the last time I saw you. How I’ve been treating you is wrong. It’s not fair of me to throw my issues on you like that. I’m getting help, I’m trying to get better. I just need you to know that none of it is personal, and I’m not angry at you at all, and I’m sorry for picking that fight and for not answering the phone and-”

He had gotten worked up, and now there was a lump in his throat. He couldn’t even finish his sentence as tears started to fill his eyes. He went to cover his face with his hands, but you got there first, trying to wipe his tears away with your fingers sticking out of your cast. It struck him in that moment just how silly he was being. He wasn’t the one that was supposed to be crying, and you, all beat up in your hospital bed, were not supposed to be the one comforting him. He suppressed the urge to laugh at his own foolishness, gently moving your hand away from his face.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffled while smiling softly, trying to regain his composure. He was supposed to be the strong one here, not you.

“I don’t blame you at all,” you said, still reaching out to stroke your fingers along his cheek. “Remember what you told me last time? Even if I wasn’t there that day, I would have been there the day after that, and the day after that, too. It was inevitable, it happened because they wanted it to happen.”

Ah. You really liked to use his own words against him. And even though they made logical and rational sense, he could see how frustrating it was to hear something like that when you’re emotionally distressed. 

Distressed. 

You didn’t even seem fazed by the entire situation, despite the fact that you had been through something so traumatic. You weren’t even displaying symptoms of shock.

“How are you so… calm?” he asked. You shrugged.

“I don’t know. I guess it just… felt like a really bad dream. They uh… they kept me drugged up a lot. I slept through at least half of it. So the parts I remember are kind of blurry.”

You were lying. Spencer could see it in your face, in the way your hands twitched on top of the blankets. You weren’t lying about the drugs; you had the track marks and blood work to prove it. But there was something you weren’t talking about, something you were guarding behind your eyes, that you wouldn’t admit to. 

“I understand. If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. You were silent for a second.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m hungry.”


	29. Recovery

Spencer’s POV

Despite the fact that you had been sleeping for days, you had no problem falling asleep later that night. Spencer kept watch next to you, as he was accustomed to doing. Except this sleep was not restful. At some point after you had closed your eyes, your breathing started to become labored. Spencer calculated the time in his head. You were in the middle of REM sleep. You were dreaming. But these were not sweet dreams. Your heart rate was starting to spike, to the point where Spencer started to seriously worry. He reached out to you from his chair, cupping your cheek in the palm of his hand.

He whispered your name over and over again, trying to wake you up gently as he stroked your cheekbone with his thumb. If anything, you were becoming even more agitated. Spencer stood up fully, standing over you and calling your name a bit louder. He used his other hand to squeeze your shoulder, trying to do anything he could to get you away from whatever it was you were seeing. Your eyes snapped open suddenly and you gasped, your first instinct being to shove him away.

“Stop!” you shrieked. Spencer backed away as quickly as he could, throwing his hands up to show you he wasn’t a threat. 

“It’s just me, it’s Spencer!”

You paused, taking a moment to look around the room and gather yourself. One of the attending nurses burst in. The both of you turned to her surprisedly.

“It was just a nightmare,” Spencer explained. She looked between the two of you, your frightened expression and his defensive stance.

“If you could please step out for a moment, sir,” she said firmly.

“No, no, it’s okay!” you protested. “He can stay, it’s okay!”

She hesitated, sizing Spencer up for a moment before turning to you.

“Press the call button if you need anything, ma’am.”

You nodded to her reassuringly and she cautiously walked out, leaving the two of you alone again. Spencer hesitantly moved towards you, going to sit in the chair next to you. You looked at each other in the awkward silence. Spencer couldn’t take it.

“What did you see?” he asked. You just shook your head, turning away from him. He reached out to hold your hand, waiting until you had fallen asleep again before he begrudgingly slept too.

-

Spencer had argued against it, had told Hotch it wasn’t a good idea. But with Emily still missing, they needed to interview you, figure out as much as they could so that they could find her. Spencer knew you weren’t ready, knew you couldn’t handle it, but Morgan was here anyways, sitting where Spencer had sat last night while Spencer stood in the corner, watching. He just knew it wasn’t going to end well.

You had been mostly silent since you had woken up, likely still processing everything that had happened. Usually in times like these you would at least cry or show some kind of worry, but your face was blank as a slate. Spencer could only partially comprehend what was going through your mind. Sometimes you would stare off into space for extended periods of time, or sigh forlornly with no visible reason; other times you would bite your nails or examine your arms and hands, picking at your scabs and running your fingers over what were soon to be new scars. Spencer had almost given up trying to stop you from marring your already damaged skin. It was like you were doing it unconsciously. Even with distractions like your phone or books, you always went back to your injuries.

“Are you ready?” Morgan asked, taking your hand in his.

“Yeah.”

Your voice was meek. You were not ready for this at all. But Morgan asked you to close your eyes anyways, asked you to walk him through what had happened.

It was absolutely horrific.

Spencer watched as you tried to keep yourself calm and in control as you described a particularly violent memory, watched as you squeezed Morgan’s hand harder and harder and grit your teeth in what was either pain or defiance. It was heartbreaking to listen to. Spencer found himself clenching his fists tightly, fighting between the urge to comfort you or to leave that very moment to find these motherfuckers himself. But he couldn’t leave you alone like this; you were starting to lose it, piece by piece. Your breathing was becoming erratic, your voice thick and trembling.

“Morgan,” Spencer warned. But Morgan ignored him, continuing with you, asking you more and questions, watching you unravel. And then, without warning, you let out the most terrifying and bloodcurdling scream Spencer had ever heard.

You opened your eyes and started to struggle against Morgan, against the machines you were hooked up to. You were disoriented. Spencer sprang into action, rushing over to help Morgan calm you down. He could feel your heart racing under his hand, heard the sound of your gasping breaths. You were almost hyperventilating. Spencer used his hand to draw your face to look at him, just as a nurse burst through the door.

“I’m right here, okay? Look at me. Deep breaths, just like this.”

He modeled it for you, and you nodded at him with panicked eyes, trying to follow suit. After your initial breathing had stabilized, after the fear of the moment had passed, Spencer turned to look at Morgan who was still holding your hand in his.

“Leave.”

There were no words to describe the amount of absolute disgust Spencer felt in that moment. He had told them you weren’t ready. But they had pressed on anyways, and look at you. He thought of all the times he had been injured, hurt physically and mentally, and how it had been brushed off, pushed to the side for something else. He wouldn’t let that happen to you.

Morgan tried to protest, concern on his face, but Spencer was having none of it.

“I told you to fucking get out!”

“Hey!” the nurse bellowed. “You need to calm down! Both of you! Out!”

Morgan didn’t need to be told again. He left with a frown, probably going to make a call to Hotch about Spencer’s behavior. Spencer didn’t care at all. Yes, finding Emily was imperative; yes, everyone was worried. But these guys were good. If Spencer couldn’t remember anything to help, he doubted that you would. 

He turned his attention back to you, cupping your face in his hands and stroking your cheeks lightly, trying to calm you down. You were shaking like a leaf in his grasp, looking up at him with watering eyes.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

You nodded at him, and he gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before he left, going to join Morgan outside of your room. The door had barely shut before Morgan went in on him.

“What the fuck was that, Reid?”

Spencer turned to him, fury written all over his face.

“I told you she wasn’t ready, Derek!”

“You’re not the one who gets to be the judge of that! Emily is still out there!”

“So was I, and so was she!” Spencer spit, gesturing to your room. “And there was _still_ nothing you could do about it. So don’t come to me with that.”

“We still had to try,” Derek replied defiantly.

“Yeah, and traumatize her even more in the process? You heard what happened to her, and that’s only _part_ of it. I know what she’s going through, I’ve seen it myself. I _lived it._ You can’t understand, you can’t fully comprehend what they take from you. The last thing I want to do is make her go through that again.”

“The same thing that Emily is going through right now? Man, I truly cannot get why-”

Derek stopped himself right in the middle of his sentence, taking a moment to study Spencer’s face, his defensive stance.

“Oh.”

“What?” Spencer answered exasperatedly.

“You love her, don’t you?”

-

Your POV

You had shooed off the nurse as quickly as possible. You understood her concern, you knew you looked like a mess right now, but there was nothing that she could do to help you. There was no way that this fear would dissipate overnight. You’d rather her be helping someone somewhere else, someone who actually needed it. She opened the door to your room after she was satisfied that you were fully calm. Spencer was waiting there. Before he could even step into the threshold, the nurse stopped him.

“You’ve caused enough problems. If we have another one, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Spencer nodded gravely, eyes glancing to you before settling back on her.

“Yes ma’am. I understand.”

“Good.”

She stepped aside so that he could enter before she left, shutting the door behind herself. Spencer came to sit in his usual spot beside you, his face drawn with worry. You reached out to him, still slightly shaking, and he held your hand to his cheek, running his fingers lightly over your knuckles.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

“I’ll be alright,” you replied softly.

“Do you need anything? Can I help you with anything? Do you want something to eat or maybe drink?”

You shook your head at him, drawing your hand back to your lap.

“No. I’m just tired. But I’ve slept too much. It’s been what, two weeks? I’ve been asleep for over half of it, but when I sleep now I usually go back… there.”

You’d been having nightmares almost constantly now. You knew it was normal, that it really was inevitable, but reliving the pain and having your brain come up with new ways that you could be hurt was something else entirely. You dreamed of the tall man’s eyes through his mask, woke up to the sound of his laugh in your ears. Sometimes you could even feel a phantom of his grip on your shoulder, your arm.

“Do you want me to sleep… next to you?”

“There’s no room here,” you sighed. What you would give to not be hooked up to machines, to have your whole bed to roll around in.

“Sure there is. Scoot over.”

He stood up, nudging you over to one side of your bed. You giggled, slapping his arms away.

“I’m serious, there’s no room!”

You weren’t going to tell him, but you were insecure. There really wasn’t room for both of you to even lay side by side; you were afraid he would think you were too big. But he crawled in anyways, laying on his side and tucking himself underneath you so that you were half laying on top of him.

“See? There’s room.”

Even though the fit was slightly uncomfortable, Spencer had this way of making you feel calm whenever he was close to you. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat through his button-down shirt. He moved his arm over your torso and you heard it flutter a bit. You wondered what he was thinking…

Suddenly you were being woken up by being jostled around. You looked around sleepily, feeling cold. Spencer was standing beside your bed, rubbing at his eyes and yawning. You saw him and instinctively started to yawn too, and he looked over at you and smiled.

“You know yawning is seen as contagious because it actually is a sign on empathy between people? That means you’re more likely to catch a yawn from family and friends rather than strangers.”

“Okay, Doctor,” you mumbled, swaddling yourself in your blankets. You hated the ones they had here. They weren’t nearly warm enough.

“They said that if everything goes well, you get to go home on Tuesday,” Spencer said cheerfully. 

“They did?”

Finally! You were tired of being here, constantly supervised by nurses, getting poked with needles. You’d had enough of that for a lifetime.

“Yeah!”

“So… tomorrow is Monday. Does that mean Hotch will let me back in the office on Wednesday or Thursday?”

Spencer’s demeanor faltered. Before he had a chance to break the news, you were already protesting.

“Emily is still out there, Spencer. I can’t just sit by and let it happen.”

“I know,” he said soothingly. “It’s just… we thought that maybe you could use some time off.”

“We? Who is ‘we?’ Because I certainly wasn’t involved in that conversation. And time off? I’ve been here for almost a week. That’s enough time off. I need to be there, I need-”

“This is your third day just being awake. We can’t take that risk.”

“Risk?” You were starting to get mad. “What risk? I’m perfectly fine and capable, I can handle it. Hotch can suck it, I don’t care. I’m going in and there’s nothing he can do to stop me.”

“Actually…” Spencer started. The tone of his voice stopped you cold.

“Actually _what,_ Spencer?”

“Don’t be mad, but-”

“You can’t preface something with ‘don’t be mad’ if you know it’s going to piss me off. There is literally no incentive for me to not be angry.”

“Well…” he rocked back and forth on his heels, as if he were trying to come up with the right words.

“Well, what? Spit it out.”

“Um… well we were worried and I didn’t know what to do so I… I, uh… I called Audrey.”

You froze.

“You… called Audrey.”

“Yes.”

You clenched your jaw, trying not to jump to conclusions. Spencer just stood there, guilt written all over his face.

“And _why_ would you feel the need to do that, Reid?”

“Well, um…” he rushed over his next words as if you were about to cut him off. “I knew she hadn’t heard from you, obviously, and she was worried, so I called her to let her know you were okay. And you just haven’t been yourself and I have to work with the team away from you for a little bit so Hotch gave me permission to fly her out here if her schedule permitted to stay with you. And her schedule worked out. So… Audrey is coming. This week. Her flight lands Thursday morning.”

The room was quiet for a moment as you processed what he had just said.

“Spencer?” you asked calmly.

“Yes?” he replied timidly.

“May I see your gun, please?”

His hand twitched instinctively towards it.

“Why do you want my gun?”

“Because mine is at home. And even if it were here, I wouldn’t want to waste my own bullets on you. Your mess, your bullets.”

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said in a small voice, taking a slight step away from you so that he was just barely out of your reach.

“Really? A good idea? And _what,_ pray tell, made you think that inviting _Audrey_ to _D.C._ was a good idea?”

The rage was bubbling under the surface. You were trying so hard to keep your voice low and calm, but all you could think about was how stupid he was. For an IQ of 187, he sure was an absolute idiot. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, you cut him off.

“Do you have _any idea_ of what you’ve just done? She’s a target now, Spencer. A fucking target. Don’t even get me _started_ on the fact that you brought her around to be my babysitter! Did you ever stop to fucking think why this was long distance in the first place? Because it _worked._ Because it’s harder to catch feelings that way, because if I get hurt or don’t want to do it anymore, I can just stop talking to her. Having her here makes it real, and that’s exactly what I was trying to avoid. I can’t fucking believe you right now. How did Hotch even approve this? What, you think that just by distracting me with someone, I’m going to magically forget about Emily? She is in _danger,_ Spencer, and I’m going to be sitting and playing house with a girl who lives 1000 miles away? Are you delusional or just plain fucking stupid?”

He opened his mouth and then closed it again, taking a moment to think of his reply while you glared at him.

“We’ll be with you every step of the way. It’s not like it’ll be the two of you alone the entire time, someone will be… around. We’ll make sure she’s safe.”

“And everything else?”

“I… don’t have an answer to that.”

“Of course you don’t,” you scoffed. He just stood there, staring at you concernedly. You rolled over in bed, your back facing him so that you wouldn’t even have to look at him. You closed your eyes, hoping that you could go back to sleep, but you were still too mad about the entire thing.

It was one thing to have them fly someone in to literally _babysit_ you. It was something else for it to be someone you so dearly cared about, someone that was now going to be in danger just by associating with you. And what about Emily? Your heart ached thinking about where she was now, what could be happening to her. You knew the team had made themselves scarce because they were out looking for her, doing everything they could. That should be you. But instead you were going to have to fake being okay, have to survive through however many days they planned to keep Audrey here just to distract you from whatever else was going on.

“Hey, are you-”

“Just go away,” you mumbled, curling up under the covers even more. You listened as he continued to stand there for what felt like awhile before settling down on the chair next to your bed. You bit back a sigh. It was going to be a long week.


	30. The Visit

You barely had time Tuesday and Wednesday to get your place ready for Audrey. It’s not like it was extremely dirty; in fact, while you were gone, someone had come into your apartment and cleaned everything. They washed the dishes, changed your bedsheets, even tidied up the bathroom.

It was more that you had to do laundry, and then clean out your fridge, and then fix the mess that was your closet, and ten million other things that you knew wouldn’t matter to anyone else but you. The dumb fucking cast you were in made it so much worse. You still had at least another six weeks before you could take it off, and apparently your cracked ribs would take about the same amount of time to fix themselves. 

It was so frustrating because you wanted to do everything by yourself, but Spencer was there next to you, trying to help. After you had gotten on to him for the umpteenth time, he took his cue and just observed, staying around you but out of your way. You appreciated that he wanted to help, but it was all stuff that you needed to do personally; no point in giving him a task that you would have to redo later. Plus, it was his fault that you had to do this anyways.

You knew he had just been trying to help, but the fact that Emily was still out there and you were supposed to be entertaining Audrey for three and a half days instead of being out in the field was upsetting to say the least. You were more nervous than excited to see her. You didn’t know what your relationship was going to look like, how the in-person dynamic was going to work. You thought about her striking dark brown eyes, her thick curly black hair that she liked to keep up in a ponytail.

Ugh!

You accidentally slammed something down in the open fridge and you saw Spencer start from his seat the couch. Oops.

She was just so fucking brilliant and amazing and sweet and funny and nice and just so overwhelmingly pretty, you were sure she was going to be disappointed by you once she actually spent time with you here. Would she even want to be friends after this? There was also the question of the undeniable sexual tension the two of you had. She was obviously on the Spencer train, and you knew that you would respect those boundaries, but would she? Spencer was apparently going to stay here while Audrey was here too; he would take the couch while the both of you took your bed. You thought about what it would be like to lie down next to her, wake up to see her smiling face in the morning, her dark skin bathed in sunlight…

No. You couldn’t afford to think like that. Yes, there had been something between you two, but it wasn’t like that. You knew you caught feelings easily, that what you thought you felt for her romantically was just your mind looking for something to find. She had said the same thing to you, that it wasn’t romantic. It’s not like that. You kept repeating it to yourself in your head until you started to believe it.

It’s not like that. 

And what about Spencer? You were mad at him right now, but you knew it would pass. You couldn’t quite describe it, but his behavior had been off since everything had happened. He was more introspective, quick to jump and help you if he thought you needed it. If he was close to you then he was touching you, a hand on your knee or your lower back, touching his arm to yours if you were standing next to each other, fingers combing through your hair or tracing the outlines of your body when you were alone. He was treating you like you were going to break at any moment, and he was trying to hold you together physically.

You knew you were repressing everything that had happened. You were burying it deeper and deeper in your brain, trying not to think about it. Because if you thought about it, it would consume you entirely. You’d be no good to anyone, not even yourself. So you ignored it, pretending that you couldn’t recall the way it felt to be kicked in the ribs until you couldn’t breathe, the way it felt to be held down and carved open like a piece of meat.

You felt a gentle touch on your shoulder and jumped, startled to see that Spencer was suddenly standing next to you.

“Are you alright?” he asked concernedly. You stood up a bit straighter, shifting so that his hand fell from your shoulder so that he couldn’t feel how fast your heart was racing.

“Yeah, why?”

“You’ve just been… standing there. Staring. You hadn’t moved in awhile, I just wanted to make sure you were feeling okay.”

This was exactly the kind of thing you didn’t want to happen.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said lightly, turning away from him to continue arranging stuff in your fridge. Spencer stood there next to you awkwardly and you knew he was thinking about whether or not to fight you on it. Instead, he placed his hand on your lower back and leaned in to kiss you on the shoulder before going back to the couch. 

-

You wished there was a way you could properly describe what Audrey smelled like. Warm, like vanilla, and some sort of sweet. Not a powdery sweet, but smooth, with just a bare hint of something floral. Maybe jasmine?

She had bounded out of the airport, throwing her arms around you and kissing you on the cheek, grinning as she used her thumb to wipe off the little bit of tinted lip balm she had left there. And then came the endless fussing over you, taking in your cast and what was left of your cuts and bruises.

Spencer just watched what was going on. He had introduced himself to Audrey, he was completely polite, smiled and talked and laughed with her when she spoke to him, but he was removed from the situation otherwise. 

You and Audrey went to museums, went shopping, and Spencer followed behind at a reasonable distance. You found yourself looking back for him often, making sure he was still there, still safe with you. Though there was strength in numbers, having him out of your sight made you nervous, scared that he would disappear again. Audrey tried to include him with the two of you, tried to ease the weird tension, but not too long after her attempts were made he would fall back again.

Friday night you were lying in bed with Audrey, the both of you facing each other and just talking. Spencer hadn’t told her much about what had happened to you, and you glossed a lot of it over for her. You didn’t want to scare her, and you certainly didn’t want to compromise whatever investigation was going on without you. You didn’t even mention Emily for fear that you may cry if Audrey asked you more about it. 

“So I have to ask,” Audrey started in a low voice, tucking her hair behind her ear. “ _What_ is going on between you and the doctor?”

You understood why she was being so quiet. Even with the door closed, the walls were thin and Spencer was lying on the couch in the other room. You frowned a little, trying to find the words to explain it to her.

“I don’t know. It’s been really… weird for awhile. Some stuff happened at work a month ago and he kind of… went off the rails. He’s getting help now, but it got really scary for a second there. And then I got hurt, and he’s been treating me differently. Like I’m breakable or something. He hasn’t even kissed me. I mean there’s little ones here and there but he hasn’t really gotten near my face at all.”

Audrey looked back at you, almost stunned.

“When was the last time you two had sex?”

You almost laughed. That was the first thing she thought of? You took a moment to think about your answer and she interrupted you.

“Dude, if you have to think about it then it’s been too long. Friends with benefits, but no benefits? What’s the point in that? I mean, all I’m saying is that he’s even prettier than in those candid pictures you sent me.”

“Well what am I supposed to do? I don’t even know if he thinks of me like that anymore, he won’t come near me. Maybe he’s afraid he’ll hurt me.”

“Sweetie, men don’t even need to have sex with you _once_ to think about you like that. I’m sure he’s just worried, and it’s overriding literally everything else that he’s thinking or feeling about you. So here’s what we’re going to do…”

-

Spencer’s POV

Spencer rolled around on the couch. He was trying to sleep, but it was difficult when he could hear you and Audrey talking in the other room. He wished he could hear what you were saying. Sometimes your whispers would be interrupted with giggles or outright laughter, and it made him sigh frustratedly.

He liked Audrey. She was kind, intelligent, caring. She was good for you. He loved seeing how you opened up with her, how you laughed and smiled and became more playful. He wished he could do that more for you. It wasn’t that he couldn’t make you laugh, it wasn’t that he didn’t make you smile, but Audrey was so much better at it than him.

As he laid there, he couldn’t help but feel this fire in his chest hearing you laughing with her. That should be him lying there next to you. But he had done this to himself. Audrey was what you needed right now, because he wasn’t able to be what you needed. A distraction from the chaos of work. He took calls and was on his phone constantly throughout the day, trying to help while not being at the headquarters. He had been able to slip away for a few hours a day as well, under the promise that the two of you wouldn’t leave the apartment while he was gone. Audrey didn’t know about it, but he was sure she had picked up on something, given the stolen glances she gave you.

It drove him crazy, thinking about the two of you together. Audrey was objectively pretty. Nothing quite like you, but he knew you thought she was pretty, too. Even worse was the thought that you were sharing a bed and blankets, that you would get to be the last thing she saw at night and the first thing she sees when she wakes up in the morning. Spencer trusted you. He knew that you were the one that had asked him to be exclusive, that you were serious about him. But with everything going on, with how he had treated you… did that agreement still stand? Or would Audrey somehow turn the tables on him?

With how bubbly Audrey was, he felt that his calmness, his graveness of the situation at hand with work would be too much of a downer. He kept away from the two of you, trying to give you privacy, but he secretly admired how often you would turn to look for him, enjoyed the sweet little satisfied smile you would get when you caught sight of him. It reminded him that you were still there, still cared about him despite everything. 

The next day was another trip into the city, another museum, another day of following behind you and making sure you were safe. It was all things that Spencer had seen before, so he was bored, just trying to entertain himself in little ways while staying ever vigilant. And then it happened.

Audrey reached out to hold your hand. 

Friends did that, right? Yeah, that was normal behavior. Women were more likely to touch and care for each other platonically than men were. Except at some point, you and Audrey had been more than friends. What if this wasn’t platonic? Spencer kept his eyes trained on you, trying to gauge your reaction. You seemed pleasantly surprised, but overall content and unbothered. 

Spencer thought about all of the times that he held your hand, about what it had meant to him. He generally disliked handshakes or handholding, hated the exchange of germs, but he didn’t mind it as much with you because it provided you comfort and because it made the both of you feel safe, protected. The thought that Audrey encroached on that made him upset beyond words. Did holding your hand mean the same to her as it did to him?

And then came the whispering. Audrey would lean in to whisper things in your ear as if Spencer was right there listening. Except he couldn’t really hear what the two of you were saying at a normal volume anyways, so there was no point in Audrey’s behavior. She was just trying to get close to you. He could tell by the way she ever so gently brushed your hair behind your ear, the way her lips almost touched your skin. Spencer clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to get ahold of himself. What was his fucking problem? You and Audrey were just friends. But you and him were also just friends. And then he realized.

He was jealous. 

He wasn’t sure if he had ever really felt jealousy like this before. He had been envious maybe, covetous perhaps, but never this outright jealous. The way Audrey grabbed your attention, how she made you feel, the way she touched you? That should be him. But you weren’t a possession. You weren’t his to have or to own. You were your own person, and you were the one who had to choose what _you_ wanted.

He was being biased, but in that moment he didn’t think he could dislike Audrey any more than he did now. Except later that day, with your hand still in hers, she turned to make eye contact with Spencer. She had never done that before. He looked back at her, trying to keep his face blank. She couldn’t possibly understand how he was feeling. But she turned around anyways, got his attention, and then fucking _winked_ at him before grinning, turning back to you and listening intently to whatever you were saying. 

As far as Spencer was concerned, that was a declaration of war. She was doing this on purpose just to get to him, to get under his skin. She was aware of your relationship with Spencer, and she was trying to destroy it anyways. He remembered his words from that back room of that podunk police station months ago, the ones he had used to antagonize you.

_Do you kiss Audrey with that mouth?_

As far as he knew, you had never kissed her. And if he had anything to do with it, you never would.

-

Your POV

It was your last night with Audrey before she flew out the next morning. As much as you had been upset that the team had used her as a distraction for you, you really did enjoy her company. It had helped keep you calm mentally, and you appreciated how having her around gave you a breath of fresh air from the oppressive and violent world around you.

“So… how do you think it went?” you whispered at her from your pillow. She grinned.

“If I’m right, he’s definitely pissed off.”

You stifled a laugh.

“I didn’t really take him for the jealous type, but I’m okay with it.”

“We could always do more.”

You frowned, trying to understand what she meant.

“What do you mean? You’re leaving tomorrow morning, I don’t think we have a lot of time for that.”

Audrey reached out, cupping your cheek with her hand before trailing her fingertips slowly down your neck to your shoulder, down the side of your torso, until they ended up on your hip. Her touch stunned you, sending chills through your body, and you looked at her speechlessly as butterflies erupted in your stomach.

“I mean,” she said, her voice low, “we can give him something else to be jealous about.”

“I- uh…” you struggled to form words, unable to think about anything but how warm her hand felt through your clothes, how you could feel yourself getting turned on by her mischievous smile. You closed your eyes, trying to gather your thoughts, trying to block out the distractions of the outside world.

“I- well, Spencer and I made a deal. And I know it’s been a long time since we agreed on that but I still told him and I promise promise promise this doesn’t mean that I don’t want you because I do, I just-”

Audrey put a finger to your lips, a soft smile gracing her face.

“I know, sweetie. I figured that you were going to say that, but I wanted to give you the option just in case. I’m not upset at all. And I know you want me, girl. Everyone does.”

She grinned, and you sighed in relief, grinning back at her.

“Thank you for understanding. I’m so so sorry, I wish you knew how much it means to me, but I made that agreement and I still really care about him. It would hurt him so badly, and I couldn’t bear to do that to him, he deserves better than that.”

“So… when are you gonna tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

She smacked you playfully.

“That you love him.”

-

Audrey’s words echoed in your head over and over again the next day. Did you love Spencer?

You were stuck in horrendous traffic on your drive home from the airport, riding in the passenger seat of your own car again while Spencer drove. Neither of you had said much since Audrey had gotten out of the car, kissing you playfully on the cheek and hugging you one last time before heading inside to her gate. You took the quiet moment to study Spencer silently, his facial expressions, the way he tapped the steering wheel to the rhythm of whatever grinding Beethoven piano sonata was playing through the speakers.

He was undeniably beautiful. You could see it more clearly than ever, with the way his hair was always slightly unkempt and his socks mismatched, but his shirts always pressed and the scent of peppermint and old books lingering around him like a perfume. You were almost mesmerized by his kind and intelligent eyes, his deceitfully strong hands. The way he thought and spoke was a mix between a computer and an old poet, as if the two were playing a game of chess in his head every waking moment, deciding who should take over for a spell.

He glanced over at you and caught you staring. He smiled playfully at you, looking back at the road but reaching out to place his hand on your knee.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. You couldn’t very well tell him the truth. Or could you? After everything that had been going on for the past month, you weren’t sure how much longer you were going to hold up mentally, and you were too tired to think of anything else to say.

“Just thinking about you,” you finally replied. Spencer raised his eyebrows in surprise, sneaking a look at you again before turning back to the road. You were sure it was because he wasn’t used to you being so candid.

“What are you thinking about me?”

“I think…” you paused, gathering your thoughts. “I think you’re a beautiful being, Spencer.”

He grinned this time, and your heart almost broke. You hadn’t seen him smile like that, truly smile, in quite a long time. You missed it.

He squeezed your knee gently, his voice soft when he replied.

“I think you’re a beautiful being, too.”


	31. What's Yours is Mine

You were feeling brave as you stepped through your apartment door that afternoon with Spencer walking in behind you. You were tired of not knowing what was going on between you two, not quite understanding how he felt, not knowing how _you_ felt. You had only taken a step or two inside, turning around to watch him lock the front door. He jumped a little when he turned to see you still standing there so close to him. You decided in that moment that if he wasn’t going to do it, you were going to do it yourself.

You reached up to his face, pulling him down to kiss you. He hesitated at the last moment, stopping less than an inch away from your lips. You stared each other down silently, and you watched as he glanced down to your lips and then back up at your eyes before slowly leaning in to kiss you. You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of how soft his lips were as they very lightly brushed against yours. You felt his fingers dancing over your hips hesitantly, his hands never fully making contact with your body, as if he was scared that any sort of actual touch would shatter you into pieces.

You were having none of that. You deepened the kiss, pressing a little harder at Spencer to get him to match your energy, your urgency. He was still hesitant, trying to take it more slowly, and you realized he wouldn’t pick it up without an incentive. You moved your hands to his shoulders, resting them there for a second before pushing him backwards, following him so that he was pressed there between you and the front door. He pulled his face away from yours, stunned. You were almost never the dominant one; both of you preferred him to take the lead because he liked to feel in control, and you liked to lose that control, if only for a short moment.

You grabbed at his shirt collar, crinkling it up in your hands as you raised your eyebrows at him in a silent question. He looked you up and down for a moment before his eyes settled on your face, nodding at you silently. You smirked, using his shirt collar to roughly pull him closer to you.

“What do you want?” you asked. You wanted to see how much he enjoyed his own games being used against himself. He took a moment to swallow hard, and you took that time to look down, undoing the top button of his shirt.

“You.”

The way his voice had dropped sent shivers across your body. You resisted the urge to look back up at his face, because you knew his intense gaze would break you out of your position of power. You wanted this just as badly as he did, but you weren’t ready to let him take over yet.

“Then ask me for it.”

You undid another button on his shirt, still refusing to look up at him even as he grabbed your shoulders urgently.

“I want you.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to steady yourself. You could feel yourself getting wet by his voice alone, your legs already feeling weak. You took a deep breath and then opened your eyes again, plucking at another one of his shirt buttons.

“That wasn’t very polite, Spencer,” you replied, trying to keep your voice as nonchalant as possible.

“Please.”

The absolute want in his voice, bordering on desperation, tempted you even more to look up at him. But you kept your resilience, hands starting to shake from anticipation as you finished his shirt, your fingers finally settling on the waistband of his jeans, your fingertips just barely ghosting along his skin. You watched as he shivered slightly under your touch. But you refused to move. You wanted to see how long it would take for him to ask you again, to beg you for more. You could see the outline of his dick through his jeans and you knew it wouldn’t be long. Sure enough, after a few moments of silence, he asked again.

“Please.”

“I don’t know…”

He moved one of his hands to your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. His brow was furrowed and his gaze intense, his breathing deeper than normal. His cheeks were flushed, and it seemed like every word that spilled out of his mouth next made him blush more brightly.

“Please. Please, I am begging you. You have no idea how badly I want this. Please. You can do whatever you want to me, I swear I’ll take it. I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever you say. But please don’t leave me like this. I need you.”

Oh god. You were lightheaded, and you realized that even though your lips had parted in surprise from his words, you had forgotten to breathe. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart as you got down on your knees in front of him. You had started to quickly undo the button on his jeans before you realized that you were supposed to be going slow. So you took your time. His hands drifted downwards to speed along the process but you smacked them away, taking your sweet time pulling down his jeans and then his underwear one at a time.

“No touching,” you warned. You watched as he squeezed his hands into fists by his sides instead, and you resisted the urge to smile. You traced your fingertips slowly over the head of his cock before running your fingers along the thick veins on the side. You heard him take an unsteady breath, and before he had a moment to recover you took the tip of his dick in your mouth, sucking lightly.

“Fuck,” he moaned, dragging the word out slowly. You could feel your pussy clench in response but you tried your best to ignore it, instead dragging your tongue across his skin lazily. You looked up to see that he was staring down at you with half-lidded eyes, his lips parted and his chest heaving. You took more of him into your mouth and you watched as his hands twitched towards you before he drew them back, trying to keep himself in check.

You pressed your hand with the cast into his thigh to steady yourself, your other hand gently squeezing the base of his cock. He was leaning against the wall for support with his eyes closed, small moans slipping out of his mouth every once in awhile. You decided that he was being too complacent, too relaxed. You prepared yourself, and then without warning you deepthroated him, holding yourself there for a few seconds before backing off again. He moaned even louder this time, and you heard the distinct sound of the back of his head thudding against the door. You couldn’t help but smirk at the dazed expression on his face, his hands clenching and unclenching shakily.

“Please,” he begged between breaths. “Please let me touch you. I promise I’ll be good.”

You tried to keep a straight face, but you couldn’t deny how his words had absolutely destroyed you. The sounds of his pleas were so sweet, so desperate, that you were absolutely sure you would give him anything he ever wanted if he asked you in that voice.

“I suppose,” you said, trying to keep your voice as level as possible. Without hesitation, Spencer twisted his fingers into your hair, his thumbs brushing your skin lightly from your temples down to your cheekbones. 

You went back to sucking him off again, and you could tell he was resisting the urge to guide you at the pace that he wanted. You were thankful for that; you had a hard time concentrating on anything else when all you could think about was how hard he was in your mouth, and how hard he was going to feel inside you later when he absolutely railed you. You knew you were in for it when this was over. You had teased him so much that there was no way he wouldn’t repay the favor.

You took your time, taking your free hand and brushing your fingers over his exposed skin lightly. He was tugging at your hair and you knew that he was getting impatient, but you paid him no mind. In a last-ditch effort to push him over the edge, you deepthroated him again at the same time that you dug his nails into his skin. You didn’t even have time to pull away because Spencer was already using your hair to drag you off of him with a choked gasp. He held you at arm’s length away from him, looking down at you while he tried to regain his composure.

“What?” you asked, adding a tone of mock innocence to your voice. 

“That’s enough of that,” Spencer replied breathlessly, releasing his grip on your hair. He got down on the floor, both of you on your knees facing each other. He started to fully undress himself, and you took the opportunity to do the same. He had finished before you, and you caught him staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Before you could ask what he was thinking, he reached out to wipe some excess spit off of your face before wiping it off on your thigh. You laughed and he grinned right back at you, guiding you to lie down onto the floor.

It was his time now, and the both of you knew it. So you waited as patiently as you could while he laid there next to you, running one hand up and down your bare skin while the other propped up his head so that he could watch your facial expressions. He pinched at your nipples, watching the way your breath caught in your throat. He trailed his hand down your body slowly, slipping his fingers between your thighs. He had barely touched you, and yet both of you could hear his wet fingers sliding across your skin. 

“Oh? Is that for me?” he antagonized with a smile, eyebrows raised. You felt yourself flush involuntarily. 

“Maybe,” you mumbled. He leaned forward so that he was propped up on his forearm, his face inches above yours. His fingers slowly slipped inside you, and he fingered you for a few moments before stopping entirely.

“Whose is it?”

You looked up at him, faking a frown. You both knew the answer, but you were in the mood to be difficult.

“Mine.”

He hadn’t been prepared for that. He started to lean down, and you lifted your head up to kiss him. Instead, he ducked out of the way, his mouth now at your ear. 

“You have one more chance,” he warned, his voice low. The way his breath tickled your skin had you squirming, and you could feel yourself tighten around his fingers. You could tell he was irritated, the aggravation dripping from his words. He wanted this just as much as you did. “Now… who does it belong to?”

“Me.”

You wished you could have said it with confidence, but instead your voice came out timidly, as if you were unsure of your answer. Spencer moved his hand away from your pussy and swung a leg over your hips so that he was on top, straddling you. 

“If it’s yours-” he grabbed your jaw, pressing his fingers into your cheeks so that you were forced to part your lips, “-then you tell me how it tastes.”

He slipped his wet fingers in your mouth and held them there. After the initial surprise wore off, you took the time to lick yourself off of him slowly, purposely making a point to suck on his fingers. You could tell he was maddened by how coolly you were handling the situation; even though you were an absolute mess on the inside, you wouldn’t let him know that.

“Good?” he asked mockingly, his fingers still in your mouth. You nodded at him expressionlessly.

“Let me see, then.”

He pulled his fingers away and then kissed you, one hand propping himself up on the ground beside your head while his other hand was still wrapped around your jaw, his tongue entering your mouth. You almost melted. You wanted so badly to hold him there, grab his face and let him devour you, but you didn’t. You knew that if you did, he would pull away. So you tried to stay as still as possible, kissing him back but doing nothing more. He pulled away eventually, and you couldn’t stop yourself from sighing lightly from disappointment. You had thought it was quiet enough, but apparently not. 

“What’s that?” he asked from above you, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “Do you want more?”

“Yes.” You paused for a moment before tacking on, “Please.”

“You don’t sound like you want it enough.”

You stared up at him defiantly. You refused to beg, just on principle. 

“Well, I do.”

“I mean if it’s yours, then I suppose it’s up to you to figure yourself out.”

He moved to get off of you but you grabbed at his shoulders, forcing him down so hard that he had to throw out his hands on either side of your face to stop himself from falling on top of you completely. You could see the veins in his strong arms as he braced himself, and you tried so hard not to get distracted, resisting the urge to turn and see what his hands looked like.

“No,” you replied sternly. He smiled back at you, shifting around so that he could cup your cheek with one of his hands.

“Sweetheart,” he said sweetly, his thumb stroking your face lightly, “I won’t hesitate to leave you naked and alone on your own floor. Don’t think for one second that I wouldn’t do it. So I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to give me the answers that I want, and they’re going to be the right answers. Not the lies you’ve been telling me. Do you understand?”

The soft sound of his deep voice but the clear threat behind his words made you shiver. You were getting impatient, and he could tell you were barely hanging on as it was. You wanted to push him to see how long it took for him to snap, to completely disregard the game and fuck you already, but he was taking it even further and you couldn’t do anything about it. If you wanted it, you were going to have to give in.

“I understand.”

His hand snaked down your body, moving further and further down until was settled at your clit, rubbing gently but not enough to actually give you any satisfaction.

“Who takes care of you?”

You searched his face for a moment, looked into his eyes for the reason as to why he was asking this.

“You do.”

He pressed his fingers a little harder onto your clit, moving a little faster than before. Your eyes started to flutter shut from the pleasure, but you stopped yourself. You knew he wanted you to look at him.

“Who makes you happy?”

“You do.”

“Who do you ask when you want to fuck?”

“You.”

“Me or Audrey?”

Shit. You could barely concentrate with his hand still all over you, but you managed to choke it out one more time.

“You.”

“Good girl.”

And then he was moving between your legs, tilting your hips up so that he could slide underneath them, your knees now on his shoulders. He leaned over you, practically bending you in half, and you whimpered. You could feel his dick _right there,_ rubbing up against your folds, yet he continued to tease you. You tried to move your hips around but he kept them stationary with one hand, the other coming up to grab your jaw again.

“Remember this. Are you listening?” You nodded in response and he continued. “If everything you just said about me is true, then that means that for today you are _my_ good girl. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you breathed. Finally, _finally,_ he pushed himself into you slowly. The both of you moaned. You felt him go all the way inside before he backed out even more slowly, and the sound of your wet pussy made him smirk at you.

“Tell me one more time. Who is my good girl?”

“I am,” you replied shakily. Why wasn’t he moving?

“No. I need you to say the words to me. Try again.”

You felt yourself flush. Obviously, you’d done dirty talk before, but this felt like something else altogether.

“I’m your good girl.”

He slammed into you and you cried out, squeezing your eyes shut. It felt so fucking good, having him that deep inside of you. But then he was gone again, back at the beginning, and you opened your eyes, silently pleading for him to come back.

“Again.”

“I- I can’t.”

He pushed an inch or two inside of you, keeping his control, but you could feel his hands shaking. He was just as undone as you were.

“You can, and you will. Again.”

“I’m… I’m your good girl.”

He slammed into you and you moaned again. After every thrust, he demanded to hear it again, again, again. He sped up, and eventually he was going so fast that you couldn’t keep up, the words getting caught in your throat between your gasps and moans until you were just making noises that didn’t make any sense at all. He had stopped asking to hear it, taking the moment to lick and nip at your skin, grab at your breasts, pinch your nipples, tilt your hips up so far that he was hitting somewhere that made your eyes almost roll into the back of your head. His fingers were only on your clit for a few seconds before you came hard, accidentally throwing your head back onto the floor so violently that it made you dizzy on top of already seeing stars. Spencer came inside of you a split second after with a low groan, falling onto the floor next to you.

Once your mind started to clear up and you had started to catch your breath, you turned your head to rest your cheek on the cool floor, only to see Spencer lying on his back next to you, staring at the ceiling, his bare chest heaving as well. Your motion had caught his eye, and he turned his head to look at you too, a few drops of his sweat falling down to pool on the ground between you. The two of you stared at each other for a few silent moments before he gave you the goofiest grin you had ever seen, and the both of you started to laugh. He shifted over onto his side so that he could throw an arm across your stomach.

“If I had known you were capable of doing that, I would have asked for it a long time ago,” he said, almost stunned. You moved to lie on your side as well so you could face him, chuckling lightly.

“Really? I thought you liked to be in charge.”

He shrugged, still smiling.

“Sure, but that… you are absolutely amazing.”

He leaned in to kiss you gently.

“Don’t sell yourself short!” you exclaimed after he had pulled away. “The finger thing? I-”

You were interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing. You frowned, rolling over and reaching for your purse that you had thrown on the ground earlier. You fumbled with it, trying to answer quickly enough, barely reading the name on the screen before you accepted the call.

“Hey, Hotch,” you said, trying to make your voice sound as normal as possible, as if you hadn’t just gotten the best dicking down of your life on your own apartment floor.

“Is Spencer there with you?”

He almost sounded panicked, and you turned around to glance at Spencer worriedly.

“Yeah, he’s here. Is everything okay?”

“He hasn’t been answering his phone. Put him on right now.”

“Oh! Okay. Uh, sorry.”

You handed the phone over to Spencer and he held it up to his ear, a quizzical expression on his face.

“I’m here.”

You could hear Hotch’s stern voice through the phone, but not what he was saying. Spencer slightly winced, and you realized he must be in trouble.

“Yes, sir. I apologize, I must have-”

“Yes, I know it’s important, I-”

You watched as his eyes widened, the color draining from his face. You reached out to place your hand on his arm, but he drew it away.

“Yes. Yes, I understand. Okay. Yes. I’ll be there in less than 30.”

He hung up the phone and handed it back to you, rolling over and collecting his clothes. He stood up, rushing to put them on, and you stood up on shaky legs next to him, trying to grab his attention.

“Hey. Spencer, look at me. What is it?”

He glanced at you, his face ridden with guilt, before looking away and sliding into his jeans.

“I have to go. Can I borrow your car? It’s faster.”

“Sure, but what’s going on?” 

He refused to look at you, choosing to look down as he buttoned up his shirt instead. You hadn’t moved an inch, waiting for him to pay attention to you. Finally, he made eye contact with you, and there was a slight panic there, as if he was barely holding himself together.

“I need your keys. Please.”

“Tell me what happened. Is it Emily?”

You suddenly felt extremely vulnerable standing there naked next to him while he was fully dressed.

“I can’t,” he replied, an edge of anguish in his voice. “Just- just please give me your keys. I have to go. Right now, I have to go. I’ll explain later, I swear.”

“O- okay,” you said hesitantly, grabbing your purse from the ground and digging them out. You put them in his open palm, your heart sinking when you did so. You had a very bad feeling about this.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He embraced you then, hugging you tightly before pulling back to give you a quick kiss on the forehead, words spilling out of his mouth so quickly that you could barely understand them as he gathered his phone, wallet, badge and gun. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. Keep the door locked, okay? Don’t leave. Call me if you need anything. I lo- I’ll see you soon. Stay safe.”

And just like that, he was out the door before you could even say goodbye.


	32. Hitbox

You stood there for what felt like forever, trying to figure out what to do. Finally, you locked the door like Spencer had told you to do and meandered to your bathroom, turning the water on and letting it heat up before stepping in the shower. This _had_ to be about Emily. It had been three whole weeks since she had been taken. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, and you started to shake. You had been going out, having fun with Audrey, having sex with Spencer, distracting yourself from the fact that you had made it out and she didn’t. All of a sudden, you felt extremely sick to your stomach. 

Oh god. Oh no. You got down on your knees over the shower drain, pulling your hair out of your face just in time to puke. You hadn’t eaten much today so there was nothing but clear bile that burned your throat on the way up. You closed your eyes and tried to regulate your uneven breathing, but you couldn’t help the tears that were falling down your face.

This was a new low for you. How absolutely fucking disgusting were you, acting like this? Taking Spencer away from the one thing that he needed to be doing, finding Emily. You knew you were having a panic attack, you knew this was normal for someone in your situation, but you couldn’t help the horrible deprecating thoughts that came to mind, sending you into a spiral of self-hatred. You hadn’t been truly alone since the day you got taken, and the constant performative personality you had been putting on for show was falling.

You had _laughed,_ walked around town, slept peacefully in your own fucking bed while Emily was strapped to some chair in that concrete room with no windows. How much time did she have left before she broke? How much time had Spencer wasted, being away from everyone else so he could babysit you? He was a hard-hitter, one of the best assets the team had. Yet here you were, distracting him with your own stupid little wants. 

So what if he hadn’t kissed you, so what if he was jealous or not? That didn’t mean that you had the right to tear him away from doing his job just because you shared a mutual interest. That was against the rules, that wasn’t supposed to happen. It was wrong, and it was your fault. How many people were suffering right now, how many would suffer later because of this? Because Spencer was off taking care of you, wasting time with you, focusing on you rather than doing the job he was supposed to be doing. At the end of the day, how many more people would get hurt as a consequence of your own actions?

“Fuck!”

You banged your fist on the tile wall, unsatisfied with the dull thudding sound it made. You realized that you were going to have to stop. You couldn’t put your own self-interests above that of the team, above your job and the safety of everyone else. You were being selfish. 

You were going to have to let Spencer go. 

It was the right thing to do, you knew it was, but the thought only made you cry harder. Why did you care so much? What did it matter? The only thing the two of you did was fuck. And kiss. And hold hands, and cuddle, and eat together and laugh and cry and fight and comfort each other and mess around and annoy the hell out of each other just because you could.

You could feel your heart breaking in your chest, in your throat. You were absolutely sobbing now, small sounds escaping from your mouth even as you tried to pull yourself together. You thought about what he was going to say, what he would do when you told him. You could already see the disappointment, the way he would try to downplay his own feelings to make it seem like he didn’t care. But you knew he did, knew that he would ask a million questions- why why why were you doing this to him?- and then he would leave with tears in his eyes because now he would be too ashamed to cry in front of you and then he would go home and blame himself for something that was your own fault. 

And what about you? Telling him that you belonged to him, that you were his, and then leaving him immediately after? What did that say about you, about your character, that you would tell him that over and over again and not mean it? How despicable. Because at the end of the day, you were both aware that it wasn’t really a game anymore. It was serious now. It was real. 

He was going to hate you. If you had thought he didn’t like you before all of this, you couldn’t imagine what was going to happen now. It killed you inside to think of what life would be like without him there by your side. You had been just fine living life on your own, and then you had decided to play with fire and now your house was burning down. You were going to have to leave the unit. You had told him you would. And even if you left, if you continued this relationship, he would always put you first. And as much as you wanted that, it wasn’t what was best for anyone but you.

You knew that he would find somebody else who could give him the love and encouragement he needed because he was an amazing and brilliant and kind person, selfless and caring. And you knew they would be just as deserving of him, just as worthy of his love and affection. But you knew that if- no, _when_ \- he ended up with someone else, you would hate them because they weren’t you. It was supposed to be you.

No. You couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t afford to fall apart right now. Emily needed you. You needed to get your shit together and pretend to be okay for her.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there under the water trying to compose yourself, but eventually your knees started to hurt. You grabbed at the shower wall to support yourself as you stood on shaky legs. How fucking pathetic. Your friends were in danger and you were feeling sorry for yourself on the bathroom floor. You knew the smart thing to do was to finish your shower, put on some pajamas, and go to bed. But you weren’t always one to make the smartest decisions. 

-

You took an Uber to the office, keeping your hand closer to your gun than normal. Nobody had acknowledged you at the front desk or even the elevators. You opened the doors to the bullpen hesitantly as if somebody was going to stop you. Except you could see through the glass doors that it was mostly empty, the lights off in the row of offices upstairs. No matter. You knew at least one person would still be here.

You made your way to Garcia’s office, knocking on the door before entering. She whirled around in her chair and squeaked when she saw you standing there.

“You’re- you’re not supposed to be here!”

“Well, I am anyways.”

“Wait, I- no, sir, I wasn’t talking to you, I-”

She readjusted her headset, and you realized her mic was on. From her tone of voice, she was probably talking to Hotch. You walked past her and reached over her desk, hitting the speaker function on her desk phone.

“Alright, Hotch. What’s going on?”

Penny took off her headset defeatedly, and you heard Hotch sigh through the phone.

“Reid told you-”

“I don’t care what he told me,” you interrupted. At any other time, you would get in trouble for that outburst. But considering the situation-

“Hey!” Spencer’s voice said through the speaker.

Oh.

 _Everyone_ was patched in on the call.

“You should have stayed at home,” Hotch scolded.

“Too late,” you replied, taking the other chair at Penny’s desk. The line was silent for a moment.

“Well, welcome back,” Rossi said.

“Thank you, David.”

The line was silent for a moment.

“Anybody going to fill me in?” you asked.

“We know where Emily is,” Derek pitched in.

“Where?”

“It looks like the basement of an abandoned retail center. Or at least, that’s what we’ve gathered from the layout and what you told us you saw,” Derek replied.

You took a deep breath before asking your next question.

“Is she alive?”

The deafening silence on the other end gave you a pretty good idea of the answer.

-

Why was there so much fucking traffic on a Saturday night? Couldn’t people just fucking walk? Take the train?

You clenched and unclenched your fists on the steering wheel impatiently, resisting the urge to honk at everyone in front of you. The vehicle the department gave you didn’t have any sirens, so you couldn’t rush to the hospital like you had wanted to. Penny was nervously chattering at you from the passenger seat, wringing her hands and keeping you updated with the texts everyone sent her.

They were already all at the hospital. Emily was alive, but in very bad shape. 

Someone suddenly cut you off, making you miss the light. Ugh! You angrily slapped your hand on the top of the steering wheel, making Penny jump next to you.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” you said, immediately feeling guilty.

“No, I get it. I understand,” she replied. But her voice said otherwise. You turned to look at her, and saw that her eyes were filling with tears. Oh no. You had done this.

You reached your hand out to her and she held it in her lap, taking shaky breaths. You wished you could say something encouraging to her or even soothe her, but you couldn’t. All you could think about were the anxious butterflies in your stomach. You felt like you were going to throw up again. You were going to have to face Emily _and_ Spencer soon. Every second you were away from them made your guilt worse, but every second that you got closer made you feel sick.

Your walk through the hospital felt like a dream. Penelope led you through the doors, up the elevator, down the hall. And then there were familiar faces, all standing in the small lobby. You locked eyes with Hotch, and you realized that he was right. You should have stayed home. You couldn’t do this. 

You loved Emily, but you couldn’t see her like this. She had everyone else, she didn’t need you there. You were shaking already just thinking about what she would look like, what her mental state would be. You hadn’t been strong enough to stay with her, and now you were going to see all the fucked up things they did to her in your place. No, you had to get out of here as soon as possible. You could see Spencer was trying to make eye contact with you, resisting the urge to reach out to you, but you ignored him. You couldn’t even look in his direction without the fear of breaking down immediately.

Hotch nodded almost imperceptibly at you, and you looked down at the floor in acknowledgement. He would understand.

“JJ?”

She turned to you, her eyes rimmed red with what you knew had been tears she had cried earlier.

“Where’s the ladies room?”

“Uh, down that way to the right,” she sniffled, pointing near where the elevators had been.

“Thank you so much. Excuse me.”

You turned on your heel and headed back down the hall as casually as possible, trying not to draw attention to yourself as you turned the corner, out of sight from everyone else. You needed to get out of here, and fast. The elevator was too slow. You saw the door to the stairway and pushed it open. The second that you stepped through the door you were running, half-tripping over yourself to get down fast enough. The burning in your lungs was a nice distraction from the nausea and the panic.

You still had the car keys in your pocket. Penny could grab a ride with everyone else. Traffic would be a bitch, but you’d rather leave now than wait for someone to come get you. Your phone lit up from the passenger seat. Hotch.

_Take Anderson with you._

No fucking way. You were _not_ about to drag someone along with you anymore. You drove straight home, rushing up the stairs. You stopped in the doorway, surveying your apartment. Your discarded clothes from earlier, the blanket Spencer had been using at night still crumpled up on the couch. The coffee mug Audrey had used this morning on the counter next to the sink. You couldn’t be here. It was suffocating.

Were you being dramatic? Probably. But this house, this place, this city… there was too much familiarity. Too many things to remember, to think about. You needed to go somewhere, clear your head, and this wasn’t the place to do it. You went to your room and started packing a bag. You threw random clothes in there, not even really paying attention to what you had, only making sure that you had enough. Toiletries? You could get them somewhere else. You just couldn’t be here anymore. You wrote a note to Spencer and left it on your kitchen table because you knew he would be the first one to come check on you. Back down the stairs, back to the car, and you were on your way.

-

The texts started coming in before you even bought your ticket at the airport. Everyone was saying that they hoped you were okay. Hotch had told them. The thing is, you had a head start, and you knew it. Penny wouldn’t be able to get back to the office fast enough to see where you were, what you were doing. As far as everyone else knew, you were at home.

You texted Hotch to officially tell him that you needed some time off. Then Penny, to tell her to give Emily some of your love. To Derek, JJ, and Rossi, you sent thanks for their concern, and that you appreciated them. All that was left was Spencer.

_Are you okay?_

_Where did you go?_

_Hotch said you needed more time off. Are you feeling alright? I can stop by your place later, if you’d like. I’m worried about you_

_Please let me know that you’re safe_

You sighed.

_I’m safe_

His reply was almost instant.

_Can I come see you?_

_No, you should stay with Emily. I’ll be alright, I promise. I just need a little more time_

_Are you sure?_

_Yes_

Your insides twisted, thinking about what you were going to have to do to him. But this was a situation of your own design. You thought back to those first six weeks with the profiling unit, when Spencer had cornered you in that stairwell. He had told you that you never finished what you started. And then he had told you to leave, to prove him right, to show him that you were a coward.

That’s exactly what you were.

You were running away now, just like you did then, because it was all too much. This job, this life… it was a mistake. It had to be. You weren’t meant to be here, not like this. You should have just minded your own business that day in the break room instead of trying to apologize to Spencer. Because the second you had decided to speak to him, you had knocked over a row of dominoes that weren’t supposed to move at all. This wasn’t right.

You had _one_ rule. Don’t get involved with coworkers. And you did it anyways. And now you were sitting in an uncomfortable seat at the airport, waiting for your plane to arrive. You had about 3 hours, but you knew it was plenty of time before anyone else even realized you weren’t in Virginia anymore. 


	33. Flight

The second you took your phone off of airplane mode, the missed calls and texts flooded in. 

Hotch

_I told you to take Anderson._

_I understand you need time, but racing out of state without warning isn’t going to fix anything. It’s reckless of you to go out on your own, especially at a time like this._

_We’ll be having a conversation about this when you get back._

Penny

_Idk when u will see this but call me back ASAP_

_Do u want me to book a place for u in Phoenix?_

_Or a car?_

_I can handle ur tickets when u wanna fly back_

_Ily_

_Pls stay safe_

Spencer

_Emily is going to be out for a few days, but she’s stable. I know you said I should stay with her, but Morgan has it covered. I’m heading over now, I’ll be there soon_

_I just found your note. Where are you?_

_Please come home_

_Garcia said you’re on a flight to Arizona_

_I would have come with you_

_Please call me when you land. I’m worried about you_

Come home.

You sighed. You owed him that phone call, you knew you did. But you put it off, going to find a rental car instead. There were brochures lined across the wall, and without even looking, you picked one up. 

Sedona. Apparently, the drive was only a few hours. Why not?

You sat down in the rental, throwing your bag into the passenger seat. You had no excuse not to call at this point. You knew Garcia was keeping an eye on you, on your phone and cards. She was bound to tell everyone else what you were up to anyways. They had to have known when your flight was going to land. You caught yourself looking at the clock, calculating the time difference before realizing that it was Spencer. He was going to stay up and wait however long it took because he had a really difficult time sleeping when he was upset or anxious. Just another selfish thing you did to him. With butterflies in your stomach, you picked up the phone and you called.

“Hello?” Spencer’s worried voice sounded through the speaker.

“Hey.”

Oh god, what was that in your throat? It felt like you were on the verge of tears and he had only said one word to you.

“Are you okay? Are you safe?”

“Yes, I’m safe, Spencer.”

Saying his name just made it worse. You knew he could hear it in your voice, too.

“What’s going on? You didn’t even say goodbye, you just left. Garcia can get me a flight out there today, I can meet you. I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

“I need to be alone. That’s why I left. I just can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t. I’m sorry for the trouble. There’s no need to fly out here, I’ll be back soon.”

“When is soon?”

“I don’t know.”

Silence.

“Hey, I need to go-”

“Don’t hang up,” he blurted. The both of you sat there on the phone, still quiet, before he finally decided to speak.

“I don’t fully understand why you left because I know there’s more going on than what you’re telling me, but I don’t blame you for it. It can be too much. I know it can. But I need you to do me a favor. Can you do that for me? Just a few small things, I promise.”

“What?”

“Take care of yourself. Do what you need to do. And then come back home.”

That word again. Home. You had an apartment, a place you were living. But was that really a home? Maybe with him, it was. But it couldn’t be anymore. A few tears slipped out of your eyes and you wiped them away hurriedly, as if he could actually see your face.

“I’ll try,” your voice cracked.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“I miss you.”

“I, um-” You were fully crying now, and you tried to stop yourself from sniffling over the phone. You couldn’t say it back. Not because it wasn’t true; the truth was that you already missed him. You missed him _so_ much, because you knew that when you got back you weren’t going to be able to be with him anymore. You couldn’t say it back because it would lead him on, make him think that things hadn’t changed when, in reality, everything had changed.

“Sorry, I need to go. I’ll see you soon.”

And then you hung up.

You were protecting him, you told yourself. Throwing a little gasoline on the bridge before you lit it on fire. Give him reasons to be upset, to not like you. It would be easier for him that way, you decided. Let him hate you or despise you, whatever. He did many things out of spite; giving up on you should come pretty naturally at a certain point. 

Enough of that. This trip wasn’t about him. It was about you. What were you going to do with yourself? You felt like you could breathe more easily out here in the desert. No humidity, less traffic. Less noise.

You hadn’t meant to end up here. It didn’t even really matter where you ended up though. Phoenix was just the first flight you saw, so you chose it. Wherever you went, you’d probably be doing the same thing. Just wandering aimlessly, trying to figure out what you were going to do with the mess you had made.

-

The week went by fast, more quickly than you had thought it would. Early in the mornings you could see hot air balloons taking off, rounding around the canyon and circling back. You spent a lot of time at the state park, sitting in the desert and just thinking. Being. There were specific places in the park for birdwatching, so a few times that week you had gone out just to watch and listen to what other people had found. It was sweet that they all had something they were passionate about.

The week was truly uneventful, and after a few days you realized your stay there was coming to an end. You couldn’t stay away from work forever. Penny had been giving you updates on Emily. Almost a week had gone by, and she was finally stable. So you booked a flight back. 

You weren’t even surprised to see Spencer standing at the exit near baggage claim when your flight landed, an unreadable expression on his face. You hadn’t told Penny when your flight was landing, or even when your flight was, but you knew she was going to tell everybody else anyways. You locked eyes with him and stopped about ten feet away. Just staring. He didn’t move, and neither did you. You would have to get past him to leave, so there was no point in ignoring him or trying to run. So you shouldered your bag and walked over to him. He nodded his head in acknowledgement at you before turning around and leading you to the parking garage across the street. 

He had driven your car here. Hm. Wordlessly, he held his hand out for your bag so he could throw it in the trunk. You handed it to him and then reached your hand out for your keys, but he ignored you, opting to open the passenger side door for you instead. It would have been chivalrous if the atmosphere wasn’t so tense. You waited with bated breath, watching him circle the vehicle before he got in the driver’s seat and started the car. He turned to you.

“You have two seconds to explain yourself.”

He sounded mad. That was fair. You took a deep breath.

“Spencer, we can’t-”

“That’s two,” he interrupted. “My turn now.”

“Hey, that’s not-”

“You had a whole week, and you said nothing. It’s my turn.”

“You don’t understand. We can’t-”

“Don’t you dare.”

He sounded absolutely livid, so much so that it caught you off guard. Before you had the chance to recover, he was already speaking.

“I spent all week wondering why you would do this. Why you would run away like that. I spent days wondering, did I do something wrong? What had happened in such a short amount of time to make you flip the switch like that? You wouldn’t even fucking _look_ at me at the hospital. I felt _lucky_ that you had even called me back when your flight landed. I read your note over and over again, and I realized. You were saying goodbye. You were running. Not just from here, but from me. And you didn’t even stop once to tell me why.”

“I thought it was best-”

“I didn’t ask you what you thought was best! This involves me, too! You can’t just decide something and then leave like that! You never asked me how I felt or even what I wanted. Did you ever stop to think that our ideas of what’s best are different?”

He was half-yelling at you now. You were close to tears, but you knew that you deserved this. He sighed, his face softening.

“Don’t- don’t cry,” he said. “Don’t do this to me right now.”

But you were crying anyways, because he had never raised his voice at you like that before, because this was going all wrong. And you were hurting him even more, sitting here hating yourself because your own selfish actions were affecting everyone around you.

Spencer dug through the console of your car, pulling out the small package of tissues that you kept there for emergencies. He handed one to you and sat back in his seat as you tried to compose yourself.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he started. “Right now, I’m going to take you to see Emily. She’s been asking about you and we’ve all been lying to her, telling her you’re sick. You have the entire car ride to think of something. Food poisoning, cold, flu, I don’t care. After that, I’m going to take you to your place where we will finish this conversation. Do you understand?”

You nodded, and Spencer threw the car in reverse.

“Good. Put your seatbelt on.”

The ride to the hospital was quiet. No radio, no talking. Just the sounds of your dumb sniffling and Spencer’s fingers tapping on the steering wheel. This was absolutely suffocating. You spent the ride thinking about ways you could perhaps slip away unnoticed. You couldn’t go home, obviously, but you could hide out somewhere until you were able to process everything. Spencer had parked the car, and as you were undoing your seatbelt, he grabbed your wrist. You looked up at him.

“If you even think about running,” he warned, “I will personally drag you back to this car. You can make a scene if you want to, but I have my handcuffs on me and I am not afraid to use them.”

Well, fuck. He had you pinned down well. You knew that he was being serious, you knew that this was definitely _not_ the time or place, but his words sent chills down your spine, and not in a bad way. If this had been any other situation, you would have come up with some flirty or bratty response. But instead, you just nodded.

“Okay,” you replied.


	34. ... or Fight

Despite the fact that he was angry, Spencer still held his hand on the small of your back as the two of you walked inside the hospital. You wished you could say something, perhaps how appreciative you were of his care and affection, or maybe a joke to lighten the mood. But there was nothing. It was best that you keep silent anyways.

You thought about his flat-out refusal to end things. He knew what you were going to say, had apparently already figured it out, and rather than letting you go he was holding on more tightly. Maybe he wasn’t mad; maybe he was scared. But that’s what you needed. As much as you hated the idea, you needed to damage him so that he would leave, and then and only then would he be able to grow and lead a better life without you. You were hindering him, but he had never opened his eyes enough to see that. 

God, and what were you going to say to Emily? Sorry? That wasn’t enough. She deserved better than this. What was she going to look like? How badly had they hurt her since you were gone? You resisted the urge to move your hand to the burn scar on your shoulder, feel the new shiny skin that was there. Would Emily’s skin look like that too?

You felt bad for the male nurse that got in the elevator with you and Spencer. There was obvious tension, and the poor man just had to stand there and take it. He had smiled at you as if he knew who you were, and you smiled back half-heartedly. It seemed he was going to Emily’s floor, which was also the floor you had been on three weeks ago. He must have taken care of you, which is why he seemed so familiar. You felt Spencer tense when the man smiled at you, but he made no other moves. And then the elevator ride was over, and the three of you parted ways.

Back through the familiar hallways, the even more familiar lobby. And then you were outside Emily’s room. You peeked in and saw her and JJ talking. Emily looked… okay. Minor cuts and bruises, no broken bones by the looks of it. But she looked pale, and probably the thinnest you had ever seen her, almost gaunt. 

“I’ll wait out here,” Spencer said softly. You knocked on the door and opened it slowly. Emily’s face lit up when she saw you. JJ looked pleasantly surprised, but you could see the concern and what looked to be skepticism behind her eyes.

“Hey, Em,” you said.

“Hey there! Come on over.”

You made your way to her, and JJ stood.

“I’ll give you guys a second,” she said, and then exited abruptly. Oh no. You had thought she would stay. You weren’t sure if you could be with Emily alone. You leaned down to hug her anyways, and almost cringed at how weakly she held you close.

“How are you feeling?” you asked. Emily shrugged.

“I’ve been better. What about you? Everyone’s been telling me you’ve been sick.”

“Yeah,” you said disappointedly, looking down at your hands. “My immune system isn’t quite back up yet and I was afraid that you’d catch whatever it was.”

Your stomach hurt just thinking about lying to her like this.

“Hey,” she said gravely. You looked up at her. “Are you okay?”

“I-”

You took a moment to pull yourself together. Now was not the place or time to get upset or cry.

“I will be. Will you?”

She sighed and nodded.

“Yes. I’ll be okay.”

You wanted to ask what else they had done to her, but you were too afraid and you didn’t want to bring up things that she wouldn’t want to remember. You sure as hell wished you could forget everything. Either way, Emily was stronger than you. You knew she could do this and handle it much more gracefully than you ever would.

Someone knocked on the door and the both of you turned to see who it was. A female nurse. You felt relieved. Now would be a good time to go.

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised.

“Alright, girly. I’ll see you later.”

You left, and as you exited the room JJ and Spencer fell silent. They had been talking about you. Ugh.

“Do you want to see her?” you asked Spencer. 

“No, I saw her earlier. Are you ready to go?”

You nodded.

“I’ll see you later, JJ,” you waved.

She just nodded at you and went back into Emily’s room.

-

The drive to your place was silent. You couldn’t help but feel like a child on lockdown. If your every move had been under constant supervision, this was going to be even worse. Hotch had texted, requesting a meeting with you at the office tomorrow. You knew it wasn’t going to end well.

Too fast, you were at your apartment, sitting on the couch, waiting for Spencer to take the armchair that you knew he liked. Sure enough, he sat across from you wordlessly. You wanted to break the silence, had wanted to since you left the hospital, but couldn’t think of a single thing that would be appropriate enough to say. Finally, Spencer opened his mouth.

“Why did you run?”

You shrugged, and he leaned forward in his chair.

“This is going to be a conversation between the both of us, whether you want it to be or not. I suggest that you start talking.”

There was a hidden threat there, and you wondered what he could possibly do to make you feel any worse than you already did. If you were going to hurt him, now would be the time.

“I couldn’t stay here anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because it was too much.”

“What do you mean by too much? And why did you think that running was an appropriate response? You could have spoken to me or anyone else, or even asked for help. Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. I panicked. I needed to leave, so I did.”

“Why? Why did you need to leave?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do!” he exclaimed. “I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t want to know. I don’t care what it is, I just want to understand.”

“At the airport you said you already knew. What’s the point of me telling you what you already know?”

“I need to hear it.”

“You didn’t want to earlier.”

You were trying to keep calm, but he was throwing so much at you that you were starting to get irritated. You could tell he was already running out of patience.

“I don’t care. Tell me now.”

You steeled yourself. This was going to be the hard part. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Spencer. We can’t do this. I want out. I’ll ask Hotch for a transfer tomorrow so you don’t have to worry. We can go our separate ways.”

The disappointed look on his face broke your heart. You knew he had suspected it from the start, but thinking about it and actually hearing it are two different things.

“Why?” he choked out.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“Yes, you fucking do.”

He was getting mad. Good. Picking a fight was the best option, the best way to keep him angry at you.

“I don’t owe you anything, Spencer. I want out. I’m done.”

“Give me a reason.”

“No.”

“You know what I think?”

“I don’t care what you think.”

Yes, you did.

“I think you’re scared because you’re getting close to having genuine feelings for someone other than yourself. And instead of letting yourself be happy, you’ve convinced yourself you either don’t deserve it or you don’t want it. But rather than dealing with your feelings like an actual functioning adult, you’re lashing out at every close relationship you have because it’s the easy way out.”

The way he said it was almost mocking, and you bit back a sharp reply. You hadn’t expected him to fight back this hard, and his words really hurt. You chose to stay silent instead of giving him the satisfaction of your anger.

“You know what else I think?” he went on. “I think you’re a fucking liar. I think that you feel guilty, you feel sorry for yourself, and now you’re projecting it on everybody else. You’re trying to get out of this so that you can be alone at your stupid little pity party.”

“Shut up.”

“What are you going to do about it? Cry? Run away? You won’t do anything at all but sit here alone and feel bad for yourself.”

You snapped. You stood up, for once enjoying the fact that in this moment you were taller than him.

“Oh, like you’re so fucking perfect? At least I’m not acting like a little bitch to everyone because I don’t know how to process my own feelings. I know I need help, and I took some time away to at least get my shit together. You barely even acknowledged something was wrong with you until it was almost too late to fix it.”

He stood up too, towering over you once again.

“This isn’t about me.”

“Oh, it isn’t? You’re calling me out for the same shit that you did. Hell, you were even worse than I am right now! Fix your own problems before you come at me with that bullshit.”

“Don’t test me right now,” he warned.

“Or what?” you spit back defiantly.

“Fine. Let’s talk about us, since you want to bring me into it. You want to act like a big girl, make decisions for the both of us? We both know you’re just a fucking brat who throws a fit when she doesn’t get what she wants.”

“I have never thrown a fit! I’m doing this because it’s what’s best for both of us, and you know it!”

“How? How is it ‘the best?’ I’m smarter than you, I think I know what’s best.”

It felt like the breath had been knocked out of you. He was pulling the fucking genius card? 

“If you were really that brilliant, _Doctor,_ then you would know why I’m right. But I guess I have to spell it out for you since you can’t figure it out yourself. You’re too close. You’re getting distracted. I’m a distraction. You needed to be at work, helping everyone else find Emily, doing whatever it is that you need to do and instead you’re babysitting me.”

You stepped closer to him so that he could hear the next words that spilled out of your mouth in a low voice. It hurt before you even said it.

“Every second we have spent together has been a waste of fucking time.”

Spencer exploded, his cheeks flushed.

“Don’t tell me what is or isn’t a waste of my time! You don’t get to be the one who decides that. Every moment for the past 8 months, every second since the very first case you worked with us, has not been a _waste._ How _dare_ you try to invalidate that. Invalidate _us._ ”

You hated how cold your next words were compared to the passion that were behind his own.

“There has never been an us.”

“You have been fighting from the very start. But you know the truth. You’ve known from the beginning, no matter how much you try to deny it.”

He stepped even closer to you, his voice ringing clear with absolute certainty.

“It has been and always will be us.”  
  
The room went silent at his statement. The two of you were looking each other in the eyes, almost chest to chest, but not touching. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him. The air was thick with tension, the both of you locked in place. He was fucking right. 

It wasn’t just your decision to be here; he had purposely pushed you, purposely antagonized you over and over again to lead you to this moment. You had spent this entire time thinking it was you; _you_ had chosen to take this job, _you_ had started this game. But really, Spencer had been guiding you there the entire time. That’s not to say he was manipulating you; at any time you could have backed out, but you chose not to.

You had to admit that there was something undeniable about him, his voice, the intensity of his gaze. Even from the beginning you couldn’t stay away, even if you had wanted to. And that attachment was terrifying. It meant change for your job, your life, your future. He was at least right about one thing. From the very beginning you had told him that it wasn’t about him, but it was. Since that day in the kitchen, it had always been about him.

“Come here,” he said, his voice almost strained. He leaned down and grabbed your face to kiss you. And then his hands were in your hair, and he gently tipped your head back as he kissed your lips, your cheeks, your neck, anywhere that he could reach. You held him close as his hands moved to your waist. You could feel his eyelashes flutter against your skin, his soft lips brushing insistently against your neck as he spoke.

“I’ve missed you.”

It was like a punch in the gut. He didn’t just miss you in the physical sense. You realized you’d been absent, not really yourself for weeks. He hadn’t been himself either. Both of you were struggling to keep yourselves above water, trying to cope with your trauma in different ways. You were in this together.

"I missed you, too."

And then he was kissing you again, nipping at your skin before capturing your lips in another searing kiss. He pulled away, the strangest look on his face.

“Since you want to fight, then let’s fight,” he said almost breathlessly.

“What?”

“Right now. I know you’re pissed off enough. Hit me. Come on, let’s do it.”

“Whoa, slow down.”

“Oh, so you’re too scared.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“It’s not that, I just don’t think physical violence is exactly the best idea considering our situation.”

“I can take it.”

“Spencer, I’m not going to hit you.”

“You don’t want to, or you can’t? Because I bet-”

You slapped him in the face lightly just to shut him up, and he grinned at you.

“That’s all you’ve got?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

He grabbed you by the shoulders, pushing you back with force, but not enough to be violent.

“You can’t hurt me,” he stated. 

“Are you asking me to kick your ass, Reid? Is that what you want?”

He grinned mischievously at you.

“I want you to try. And when you fail, I’m going to fuck you on that couch right there until you scream.”

Good lord. Your stomach dropped, and you watched his face as he saw how his words affected you. He took a step back to take off his gun and holster and place it on the coffee table before putting his hands up in front of you as if in surrender.

“No weapons allowed.”

What the fuck was up with him? Of course, you would be more than willing to play any other time, but you hadn’t expected the argument to end up this way. He could see your hesitation, your uncertainty.

“You’re not strong enough to fight me, are you? Are you just going to run away? Coward. I bet Audrey likes cowards like you. Are you just gonna run to her next time?”

“Hey! Don’t bring her into this.”

“What, you don’t like me talking about your friend? You know, I bet she-”

“Spencer,” you warned. He was provoking you and you knew it, but you hated the way he was talking about her. He started cracking his knuckles then, one by one. He grinned at the absolute look of distaste on your face. 

“Are you _trying_ to get hurt?” you asked.

“Absolutely. I can do this all day.”

“Dude, stop it.”

“Make me.”

“What’s your problem?”

“I want you to stop being a pussy and fight me.”

“Name-calling? Mature.”

“Oh, do you prefer weak-ass bitch instead?”

“Hey! I’m not a bitch!”

“You know what, you might be right, but I know for a fact you’re a little slut just like Audrey.”

That was it. That was the last straw. You were fine with him harassing you; that didn’t matter. But the second he decided to insult your best friend, all bets were off.

“You keep her name out of your fucking mouth, asshole.”

“Or what?” he taunted. He started to crack his knuckles again. “Not like you’ll do anything about it. All I’m saying is that she-” 

You slapped him. It wasn’t too rough, but definitely harder than the first one. He grinned at you, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“How did that feel?” he asked.

“Kind of… good.” It was a small relief, to get all of this pent-up angst and anxiety and throw it outside of your body.

“Do it again.”

“Is this really-”

His hand darted out and he grabbed at your hair, tangling his fingers in it and pulling your head backwards.

“Don’t overthink it. You know the word. Do it again.”

You reached up to slap him again but he released your hair, pushing you away so that you stumbled back a few steps. You were both breathing heavily, both in defensive stances. You had never actually fought someone like this before, except maybe Derek when you were in training. You had gotten used to his fighting style, knew what to expect. You’d never seen Spencer actually engage in combat before.

He lunged at you and you ducked out of the way. But his reach was much further than yours, and he was able to grab your forearm and draw you in closer to him. You dug your nails as hard as you could into his arm, trying to get him to release you. He slapped you in the face and then gripped your jaw with his other hand while you were disoriented, pulling your face up to his so he could kiss you. Before he could even get close, you pushed at his face with your hand, shoving him away. He let go of you and stumbled backwards, tripping on the carpet. And then he fell, hitting the back of his head on the edge of the coffee table.

“Oh my god!”

You knelt down next to him, helping him sit up while he looked at you with a dazed expression on his face.

“Are you okay?” you asked. You reached your hand around to the back of his head, trying to feel if there was any blood. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be any. He winced when your fingers danced over a warm part of his skin, and he reached for your arms to drag them away from his head.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

He tried to stand but you put your hand on his shoulder, forcing him to stay down.

“No, wait. We don’t know how bad it is. Give me a second, I’ll be right back.”

You rushed to the kitchen, throwing some ice in a plastic bag and then grabbing some ibuprofen and a glass of water. You came back to Spencer, who looked more irritated than in pain.

“Here,” you said, handing him the pills and water. He took them and you placed the glass on the coffee table before sitting down next to him and giving him the bag of ice.

“Let’s just stay here for a second, okay?”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, placing the ice on the back of his head. 

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” you said. And then you started to giggle. Of course something stupid like this would happen to the both of you. He looked over at you with a sly smile and then he started to laugh as well. After you had both calmed down, he leaned over, using his free hand to turn your face towards his. What began as a small kiss quickly started to become something more. He was moving his hand along your thigh when you pulled back for air.

“Spencer,” you said, placing your hand on top of his. “We do _not_ need to be doing that right now.”

He gave you an exasperated look.

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not! You hurt your head, what if you have impaired judgement? We should be safe just in case.”

He sighed loudly, bringing his hands back to himself. You watched as he started to pout, and you laughed.

“It’s not funny!” he exclaimed.

“You’re literally the one who started it, you can’t be upset that you got hurt.”

“This isn’t over.”

“Yeah, okay Spencer.”  



	35. ... or Freeze

It was nice to be back in your own bed, and even nicer to be sleeping next to someone again. You had fallen asleep quickly that night after staying up late to fuss over Spencer, making sure that he was okay.

You had another nightmare again. It wasn’t as bad as they usually came, but you still woke up sweating and breathing heavily, startled more than anything. There was something about it that was different tonight, something that you couldn’t quite place. You turned over in bed to look at Spencer through the lights of the streetlamps that peeked through the curtains. You took a moment to study him, his messy hair, his plush lips, his fluttering eyelids…

Eyes.

It was the eyes.

“Spencer! Spencer wake up!”

You shook him awake, and the second his eyes opened you were throwing your legs out of the bed, turning your lights on. You watched him squint, trying to adjust to the sudden change in light as you ran around your room, gathering clothes to change into.

“Get up! We have to go right now!”

“What? Why? It’s-” he checked the clock, “-three in the morning.”

You threw his clothes at him and he started, sitting up in bed to watch you run around.

“His eyes, Spencer. The fucking eyes! It’s Emily, we have to go. We have to make sure she’s safe. Who was she with? Who’s there tonight?”

“Uhhh… JJ still, I think. What’s going on?”

“Get dressed. We have to go, hurry up.”

You ran across the apartment to gather your things while you dialed the phone, praying that JJ would answer. On the third ring she picked up, her voice croaky from sleep.

“Hello?”

“JJ, it’s me. Wake up.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, suddenly sounding more alert.

“I need you to lock the door. Nobody in, nobody out until we get there. Do you understand? Not even the doctors or nurses. Absolutely nobody.”

“Yeah, I can do that. Why, though? What’s going on?”

“No time. I’ll explain it to you soon, I need to call everyone else. Just please, whatever you do, do _not_ let anybody in.”

“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

You hung up and saw Spencer dressed in the doorway of your room, a concerned expression on his face.

“What happened?”

“The nurse, Spencer. From the elevator, remember? It’s him, it’s fucking him. I knew that I had seen him somewhere, he was on Emily’s floor, I thought he took care of me when I was there. He fucking smiled like he knew me.”

Your stomach turned.

“It was him. The tall man. I only saw his eyes through the mask but it’s him, I know it is. We have to go. Right now.”

-

Technically, you weren’t supposed to have your gun. But you knew that Hotch wouldn’t care, not at a time like this. Everyone but JJ and Emily met in the parking lot, discussing how they were going to clear all of Emily’s floor. You were going to have to split up, take different corners of the floor and meet in the middle. But you had to do it discreetly without alerting the tall man or anyone else of your plans.

Slowly, so slowly, to team went up the elevator and parted ways. You took your corner deliberately and steadily, peeking into every room while resting your hand lightly on your gun.

“Do you need anything, ma’am?”

You froze at the familiar voice, turning behind you to see the tall man in blue scrubs, looking at you with his mouth quirked up in a little smile, those familiar brown eyes staring straight into yours. You were on a sequestered part of the floor; it was unlikely someone would walk by and see you. You should be reaching for your gun, you should be saying something, anything into the earpiece to signal that you needed help, needed someone because you couldn’t do this alone.

“N- no, I’m alright,” you stammered. But the look on your face must have given it away.

“Are you sure?” He was grinning now. He took a step towards you and you knew you should take a step back but you were frozen in place. 

“What, cat got your tongue?”

He laughed, and you heard Hotch through your earpiece, asking for updates from everyone. And then the tall man drew a gun from his waistband and pointed it at you. You couldn’t even draw your gun. Not that it would matter. You couldn’t really move your left hand because it was still in the cast, much less support a gun in your hand. You knew how to shoot single-handedly, but you didn’t think you’d be fast enough.

“I know I should have put a bullet in your brain a long time ago, but I think that seeing the look on your face right now makes up for it completely.”

You wished you could say something back, but it felt like you were stuck to the ground. Your brain was panicked and yet calm at the same time. Was this how you were going to die? Alone in the middle of a hospital hallway? How ironic. You knew you should move, should say something, anything, keep him talking, distracted, but all you could do was look at his eyes, his face, that disgusting smile he wore because all you could really think about was what he had done to you. He leveled the gun at your head.

“This was honestly worth the wait.”

You heard a gunshot and you ducked instinctively, trying to get out of the way. Then there was screaming, and you looked up from the floor to see the tall man rolling around on the ground, his blood pooling all over the floor from a gunshot wound to the leg. Hotch and Morgan moved forward to restrain him, and you watched silently from the ground as Spencer put his gun back in his holster. Judging from the absolutely murderous expression on his face, you would have bet money that he was the one who fired the shot.

Suddenly Rossi was next to you, helping you up off the floor. How did he get over here so fast? He was asking you questions that you barely heard. There was so much commotion; patients exiting their rooms, nurses running around trying to calm everyone down, Hotch shouting at everyone to get back into their rooms. But you paid none of that any mind. You were too distracted by the dark red blood on the ground that was getting smeared and tracked onto the white linoleum tiles. 

That was almost you.

-

You were now on lockdown with the girls in Emily’s room. Emily was somehow still out cold, so it was just you and JJ awkwardly sitting there beside her. The two of you had barely spoken since you’d gotten back other than the phone call you’d had earlier. The air was thick with tension. She had asked you if you were okay and that was it. You weren’t sure how long it was before she spoke to you again.

“Do you remember Jason Gideon?”

Her words brought you out of your reverie.

“Vaguely… didn’t he leave a few years ago?”

“Yes. When he left, he didn’t tell anyone. It was a few days before anyone went to check on him. Spencer went. Gideon left him a note personally because he knew Spencer would be the first one to go looking. Gideon just… took off on some road trip, and that was it. He never came back.”

“Oh.”

That sounded eerily similar to what you had just done.

“Gideon was like a father figure to Spencer,” JJ continued. “And it absolutely tore him apart for someone so important to just leave him like that. So imagine how Spencer must feel, six years later, when someone does the exact same thing to him again.”

It was more than just JJ’s accusatory tone that had you feeling guilty. Nobody had told you that before. It made sense. You remembered that one day Gideon had been there, and the next he was just… gone. You had put Spencer through hell again, making him relive something traumatic like that.

“I didn’t know,” you murmured.

“Of course you didn’t. Like you didn’t know how he cried himself to sleep in Derek’s office when we were out looking for you. Or that Hotch almost sent him to desk duty because he thought Spencer’s feelings were interfering with the case. He just spent most of this last week in Garcia’s office, practically begging her for updates on you because he was worried sick and you couldn’t even bother to pick up the phone.”

She wasn’t even hiding the bitterness in her voice now. She had every right to be upset. You really were treating Spencer like shit, and everyone knew it now. But if everyone knew, there wasn’t a point in hiding anything anymore.

“Tomorrow I was going to ask Hotch to transfer me out of the unit. I didn’t know those things about Spencer, but I know I was scared of how much he felt. Of how I felt. But it’s like no matter how hard I try, I’m just not good enough for him. I can’t stick around and hurt him and waste his time even more than I already have, so I was going to leave. I knew he wouldn’t let go unless I forced him to. I just needed to give him a little push.”

JJ fell silent for a moment, her face softening as she processed what you had said.

“I know it’s not right,” you added. “It’s the worst thing in the world. I hate hurting him like this but he just… won’t let go, even if it’s for his own benefit.”

“You care about him a lot more than you let on,” she said finally.

“Yes, I really, really do,” you sighed. “I think about him every single day. I worry a lot, especially now with everything going on. It’s hard to sleep if he’s not next to me, or if I can’t at least talk to him before bed. Other than this past week while I was… out, we haven’t spent a night apart for awhile. Before that, even, we’d spend a majority of our time outside of work together. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t have him next to me through all of this. It kills me to see him hurting because I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to help, and it feels like I’m making it worse, bringing out the bad side of him. I thought that if I left, it would make it better. Help him get better.”

This was the first time you had admitted to anyone out loud the depth of some of your feelings for Spencer, except maybe to Audrey. But even then, you had skirted around the subject, never actually saying much. 

“Are you still going to leave?”

“I don’t know. We got into a big fight. He outright refuses to let me go, even though it’s what’s best for him.”

“How do you know that?” JJ asked.

“Know what?”

“How do you know what’s best for him? Because even with everything going on, I’ve seen how happy you make him. Isn’t his happiness the most important thing? Isn’t yours?”

-

Spencer’s POV

As much as Spencer wished he had killed the man, it wasn’t meant to be. Thankfully- or not- the bullet wound had been superficial. After the man received medical care and was cleared, he was escorted to Quantico. Spencer decided to ride with Rossi rather than be in the same vehicle with him, Hotch, and Morgan. In no time, Spencer was with Hotch in the interrogation room. Hotch had almost insisted on Spencer’s absence, but Spencer was having none of it. This man had personally hurt you and Emily, and for that he was going to have to pay.

“What’s your name?” Hotch asked after taking a seat in front of the man. Spencer was leaning against the wall behind him. He didn’t understand how calm Hotch was right now, how he could just sit in front of this man knowing what he had done. 

“You’ll figure out soon enough.”

“We don’t need to go over what you did. We already know. But what were you doing at the hospital, where you could easily be recognized?”

“I just wanted to check on my girls,” the man replied, grinning. Spencer was sure that if he spoke, his voice would be trembling with rage, so he decided to say nothing at all. The man was acting as if he owned you and Emily, as if you were objects.

“Why did you take them in the first place? You wanted to send a message, get information? What?”

He was setting a baseline. Smart. Hotch already knew the answer, so he could find out what the man looked like when he was telling the truth versus when he was lying.

“Well, Emily… she knew things we wanted to know. But the other one? She was just incentive. We figured Emily would be a little more willing to cooperate if she had a friend around.”

Hm. He refused to acknowledge you by your name, as if you were too insignificant to warrant his attention. But he knew your name, he had to. What reason did he have to keep silent?

“I wish you could have heard it,” the man continued. “Her screams really were delicious.” 

He glanced at Spencer with a sly smile.

“But of course, you probably already knew that.”

Spencer grit his teeth, trying not to clench his fists to give away how absolutely enraged he was. How did they know? He supposed that if they kept up surveillance for long enough, they would have figured it out. You and Spencer weren’t so cautious in public when your coworkers weren’t around. The man kept eye contact with Spencer, continuing on with his filthy little tirade.

“How’s her hand? It made quite a satisfying snapping sound when I broke it, I just want to make sure it still hurts.”

“Enough,” Hotch commanded. “Where-”

“She’s just so _pretty_ when she cries. Those little faces she makes, especially when you pull her hair-”

Spencer was out the door before the man could even finish his sentence, his hands shaking. The man’s laughter followed him outside, the grotesque sound bouncing around in his head. Spencer was going to kill him. He was so close to doing it, so close to pulling out his gun and ending it right there, but he knew that the man was valuable, knew that he was the only chance of figuring out what these people wanted. 

He knew the man was just antagonizing him because he could, because Spencer was an easy target, but that didn’t make it any easier to handle. Spencer had already shot the man once, felt the satisfaction of watching him crumple to the ground, but he wanted more. He had never felt so bloodthirsty in his entire life, never felt the actual want to watch the life fade from someone’s eyes until now. He didn’t just want it; he _needed_ it. 

Spencer felt violated, the way the man had been talking about you. It wasn’t even about him and he wanted to throw up. You weren’t a person to these people, you were an object. Spencer could tell that this man got off just from thinking about you in pain, and it made him sick. The man had been talking right at Spencer, as if the both of them had something in common, as if the both of them had actually shared sexual or intimate moments with you. It was disgusting to think about him even touching you, much less doing anything else to you.

Morgan quickly took Spencer’s place in the interrogation room, leaving Spencer outside with Rossi. Rossi simply placed a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, a way to physically ground him in the moment. Finally, after cooling down, Spencer spoke.

“I’m going to kill him.”

“I understand,” Rossi replied.

No, he didn’t. Spencer wasn’t making a threat.

He was making a promise.


	36. Within Reason

You were almost hesitant to hear about what was going on with the men back at Quantico. You knew from JJ that they were questioning the tall man, or Malcolm, as Garcia had found out. He had a brief rap sheet, nothing that would make one think he had graduated to kidnapping and torturing people, but Penny suspected foul play on his records and was researching more at the moment. 

It seemed that you and JJ were on a little bit better terms after your talk. As much as it had slightly relieved you to talk about how you felt, you also felt like you couldn’t speak too much about your involvement with Spencer without his permission. You didn’t know how much he wanted others to know, so you kept silent about most of it.

You weren’t sure if JJ didn’t approve of you, or just what you were doing with Spencer. You knew that she would always care for him more than for you, and that didn’t faze you much. You were just mulling over her thought process. Obviously, she had thought that your relationship with Spencer was one-sided, which was definitely not the case. Maybe she was upset that you were hiding it, as if you were ashamed of him. Also not the case; you weren’t embarrassed at all, it was more a problem of professionalism than anything else. You couldn’t very well have favorites at work.

There was also the fact that neither of you had actually given a label to what you were doing. It was loosely a friends with benefits situation, at least at first, but the both of you knew it had grown into something else entirely, something that neither of you had spoken about in detail. In theory, friends with benefits shouldn’t involve romantic feelings, but you knew that you and Spencer were way past that point. He had never asked you to be his girlfriend or anything like that, but that word just didn’t feel right to you. It felt like it diminished your roles in each other’s lives. He was more than that to you; you had been in love once, a very very long time ago, but it had never felt anything like this. 

Love.

You were almost scared to say it out loud. But you knew what it was, and you were positive that Spencer did too. You could never say it first. You were too scared of getting hurt, too scared of what it would mean to change what you had right now. Ideally, it would change nothing about your relationship with Spencer. But there was something about actually saying it to him that made it very real, very final. If your relationship ended, you couldn’t go back and say that it hadn’t meant something to you, or play off your feelings to pretend that you hadn’t actually cared. It meant you were vulnerable and open to the possibility that he could break your heart, that you could change your entire life and plan a whole future with him and then possibly watch as it crumbled to the ground because it hadn’t worked out.

You ended up falling asleep again in your chair, only to be shaken awake by JJ.

“Yeah?” you grumbled. “What’s up?”

“Hotch needs to talk to you,” she replied seriously.

That woke you up quickly. She held out her phone to you and you took it, quietly slipping out of the room to stand outside the door.

“It’s me,” you said finally.

“How quickly can you get down here?”

“As quickly as traffic allows, I guess,” you said, stifling a yawn.

“I’ll see you then. I’ll be in my office.”

And then he hung up the phone. Shit.

-

You knocked on his closed door tentatively. You were _not_ looking forward to this. You heard Hotch tell you to come in, so you did. You knew he would be there, of course. What you didn’t expect was Spencer, sitting in front of Hotch’s desk waiting for you, too. You felt like a child at that moment, like you and Spencer were two kids who were summoned to the principal’s office for fighting on the playground.

“Take a seat,” Hotch commanded. So you did, right next to Spencer. You refused to look at him, because you were wary of what you would find on his face if you did. 

“I’m going to keep this brief. What the two of you do outside of work is not any of my business. But the moment that it interrupts a case or becomes a distraction, I expect it to be dealt with appropriately. If I have to separate you, I will. And though I would hate to lose a member of this team, I will not hesitate to make that call if it’s in everybody else’s best interests. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” you replied.

“I understand,” Spencer mumbled. 

“I will not be having this conversation again. This is your one and only warning. Is there anything either of you would like to add?”

If you wanted out, now was your chance. You could feel Spencer’s gaze on you, knew that Hotch was waiting for something, if anything, to come out of someone’s mouth. And then the moment had passed.

“Dr. Reid, if you don’t mind leaving us. We have a few more things to discuss.”

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t want to be alone with Hotch, not after that. 

“Okay,” Spencer said quickly, and then he was up and on his way out. He had been nervous, you could tell by how he walked and the way his leg had been bouncing in his chair. Now it was just you and Hotch. He waited until the door was completely closed before he turned to you.

“Disobeying my direct orders and flying out of state during a time when our security is this sensitive is extremely reckless. When this is all over, we’ll be having another discussion on how we’re going to handle the repercussions of that situation. Agreed?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Under normal circumstances, considering your behavior over this past week, I wouldn’t allow you to work this case or even come into the office,” he started. “I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t think it was important. Malcolm has refused to speak to any of us, and said he only wants to talk to you or Emily. However, Emily isn’t available, which means you are our only option. I understand if you’re not comfortable with this, and nobody would judge you if you said no. I would just like to extend that offer to you.”

“I’ll do it.”

“I understand your eagerness to help, but I would prefer it if you took some time to think about it before you outright agree. I want to make sure that it is a safe decision for you to make.”

“Every second that we don’t do something is another second that we’re all in danger. I’ll do it,” you stated firmly.

“Alright,” Hotch resigned. “When would you like to start?”

“Now is fine.”

-

You had refused to let anyone else in the room with you. If Malcolm only wanted you, then that’s what he was going to get. You and Spencer stood alone outside of the interrogation room while you took a few deep breaths, trying to steel yourself for whatever was about to come.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Yes, I know, and yes, I do,” you replied.

“I’ll be on the other side of the glass.”

“I know.”

“Don’t be afraid to leave if-”

“Spencer.”

He stopped.

“I can do this,” you assured him. 

“You just got back yesterday, what if you’re not ready yet?”

“I can do it. Now go.” You shooed him off and he went to the observation room, leaving you alone in the hallway. You took a moment to ground yourself, took one more deep breath, and opened the door.

“My favorite girl!” Malcolm exclaimed as you stepped in. You felt nauseous hearing that voice, seeing those eyes again. You pushed your panic down, trying to remain as calm as possible.

“I could have sworn you liked Emily more,” you replied coolly, taking the seat in front of him.

“You would think so, but between you and me,” he said, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, “she’s not much of a screamer.”

Oof.

“She is pretty strong,” you remarked. “What about Spencer, though?”

“Oh, I wasn’t there for him,” Malcolm said, leaning back in his chair.

“Really? Well then who was?”

“You’re going to have to give me something in return if you want me to say anything. Dangerous times we’re in and all that.”

“What is it you want, Malcolm? Within reason, of course.”

“Full immunity is off the table then?”

“Considering you kidnapped and tortured federal agents, I’d say yes.”

“Then I’m a dead man walking.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, my bosses,” he said, running his hands over the top of his head, “they’re sticklers for these types of things. Getting caught means death. Unless you can somehow protect me, it won’t matter. They’ll get me in the end.”

“If I gave you full immunity, would you consider giving me the information that I want?”

“Hm.”

He paused for a moment, putting his finger to his mouth as if he were actually thinking about it.

“Probably not.”

“Then I suppose there’s no reason for you to waste my time.”

You got up to leave, knowing damn well he was going to ask you to come back. Malcolm was the sort of man who loved to play with his food, dangle bits and pieces without actually delivering until the very end. His bit wasn’t over yet, and he needed you to play it out with him in order for him to hand over the information that you wanted. Sure enough, he cried-

“Wait!”

You looked at him over your shoulder.

“Why?”

You grasped the doorhandle and his words came out in a rush.

“The one who hurt the doctor is already dead.”

You turned around to look at him, eyebrows raised.

“And? How does that pertain to me?”

“Because he knew the name of the person who’s doing this.”

“He knew… which implies that you don’t. You said that the moment you got caught, it was a death sentence. And as far as I’m aware, dead men don’t talk. You’re useless to me.”

You yanked open the door and left, leaving Malcolm and his protests behind. Seconds later, the door next to you opened and Morgan stepped out to see you. You thought Spencer might have come, but you weren’t complaining. You appreciated that he protected and cared for you, but when he treated you like you were breakable it could be overbearing.

“Good job. That was exactly what he needed to hear,” Morgan said, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder comfortingly. You realized quickly that they had sent Morgan because he was very good at deescalating people when they were upset. They thought you’d be a mess. You smiled half-heartedly back at him.

“Thanks, Derek.”

The nausea suddenly hit you like a truck, and you realized you were going to throw up.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you said, and then you were off. It was only halfway down the hall, so you knew Derek would watch you, wait for you to leave. You didn’t care, you weren’t going to run this time. You had just enough time to get on your knees before you were coughing up bile, your stomach trying to get rid of whatever was there, even though there was nothing. You were breathing heavily and sweating already, almost lightheaded. When was the last time you ate? 18 hours ago?

Another fucking panic attack. You had never had this intense of a physical reaction to somebody else before. Usually something you thought or did triggered these, and you hadn’t experienced one in a very long time. You never usually threw up either. That was a new one. Two in two weeks was bordering on a new record for you. You closed your eyes and rested your face on the wall of the stall, hoping that it would help cool you down enough to bring your body temperature back to normal.

There was a knock on the bathroom door and you groaned. One of the men was going to come in, you just knew it. Had you really been in here that long? Your knees kind of hurt, but you thought it had just been because of the hard tile. Sure enough, the door opened and you heard Derek calling your name hesitantly.

“I’m fine,” you called weakly, eyes still shut. Apparently that wasn’t enough to deter him because you heard him open the door wider and step in, making his way to where you were. Ugh. This was the second person on the team who had found you on your knees in front of a toilet. Great.

You heard him crouch next to you, felt his warm hands on your clammy forehead as he brushed the hair back from your face. You didn’t even open your eyes. You didn’t want to see the look of pity on his face.

“Hey, sweet girl. It’s gonna be okay.”

He rubbed his thumbs lightly across your temples, trying to calm you down. You appreciated him, but god this was embarrassing. 

“I know,” you sighed. Eventually, after most of the nausea had passed, you opened your eyes and turned to Derek to see him watching you intently.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked gently.

“No.”

He nodded understandingly.

“Do you want to stay here for a little longer?”

You shook your head.

“I kinda just want to take a nap.”

“There’s a couch in my office. Would that be alright?”

Yeah,” you nodded.

“Do you need help getting up?”

“No.”

“Okay. I’m gonna wait outside for you, and then we can go. Sound good?”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay, good. I’ll be outside.”

He got up and left, and you sat there for a few seconds longer before getting up and flushing the toilet. You washed your hands and splashed some water on your face, trying to calm your shaking hands. You were almost nervous to see Spencer outside, not just because you were embarrassed by this, but also because you weren’t sure what state he would be in. Worried? Angry? 

You knew he wouldn’t be mad at you, mostly only at Hotch or Morgan, but you didn’t want him to be. This had been your decision, your choice. It wasn’t fair of him to blame someone else for that. But when you stepped out of the bathroom, it was just Morgan standing there. The two of you walked to his office and he held the door open for you. 

“Are you sure this is okay?” you asked.

“Of course. Now go lie down.”

“Alright.”

You shuffled over to the couch and went to lie there. Derek came up from behind and threw a blanket on top of you. Weirdly enough, it smelt vaguely of peppermint. Spencer.

Derek closed the door softly and went to sit at his desk, turning on the small lamp there so as to keep the office dark. It wasn’t long before you fell asleep.


	37. Interrogation

You were going to have to talk to Malcolm again. Although you weren’t there to see it, apparently Spencer had been agitated after your first round with him. It honestly hadn’t even been that bad. But next time, you knew it was going to have to be a prolonged session, and once again you were going to have to do it alone.

You made sure that Spencer was on Emily duty the next day. There was something in his eyes, something buried under the surface that you couldn’t quite make out, that made you worried for him. It was this cold demeanor, bordering on anger. You only caught it in the small moments where he thought you weren’t looking, but it scared you. Yet he had been as tender as ever, stroking your hair gently as you fell asleep that night, kissing you softly yet passionately. 

The next morning, you made sure to pick out clothes that were a little more modest than normal, something that covered more skin. You remembered Spencer saying once that people tend to think of women as more trustworthy or faithful if they wore less provocative clothing. You needed Malcolm to open up to you, and you were going to do whatever it took to get there. Apparently, that was the wrong move. Even though he grinned when you entered the room, the first comment he made was about your clothing.

“What’s with the clothes? Are you scared of me, baby?”

“I’m not your baby.”

“A little touchy today, aren’t we?”

“Nope.”

You knew your team was on the other side of the glass behind you, knew they would step in or stop something bad from happening, but you still felt alone.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I’m doing today?” 

You looked up at him from the file you were leafing through.

“No.”

“How’s your hand? Healing nicely? When do you get to take the cast off?”

“Piss off.”

He laughed then, throwing his head back as if it was the funniest thing he had ever heard.

“You’ve really got a mouth on you, huh?”

You didn’t reply, opting to ignore him just because you could at this point.

“I bet you need a strong man to keep you in line.”

You continued to ignore him, but he kept coming at you.

“Does that boyfriend of yours keep you in line? He looks like he could barely lift a finger, much less handle a woman like you.”

“What’s with the old vandalism charges, Malcolm? Spray-painting walls? What was that for?”

“I bet I could handle you.”

“College dropout. What was your major, again?”

“Tie you up all nice and pretty again and show you who’s boss.”

“This isn’t a fucking game, Malcolm,” you said, slamming your papers down on the table.

“What a dirty little mouth,” he replied with a smile. “I’d love to see what else it can do.”

You needed to calm down. You were already starting to get aggravated, and you had only been in the room for a handful of minutes. You hated being in the same room as him. Even though he was the one in chains, he still technically had all the power. You suppressed a sigh, pulling yourself back together. 

“Why did you leave college?”

“Why don’t you leave your boyfriend?”

You knew he was talking about Spencer, even if he wasn’t officially your boyfriend. You didn’t feel like making the clarification.

“Stop deflecting.”

“You first.”

He was so fucking annoying.

“What do you want, Malcolm? Really. What are you hoping to gain from this? If you’re going to die anyways, don’t you want to get back at the people who are going to kill you?”

He shrugged.

“It was part of the job description. I can’t really be mad about it.”

“Then why would you put yourself in that situation? You knew we would be there, you knew there was a chance we could recognize you. So why did you do it?”

“If you want answers from me, then you have to answer my questions. It’s only fair, you know.”

You stared at him with a deadpan expression on your face. Was he fucking serious?

“Cut me a little slack!” he laughed. “It’s my dying wish, after all.”

The two of you sat in silence while you thought about it. In truth, how much could it hurt? You could always lie. But so could he.

“Fine,” you finally relented. He resituated himself in his seat so he could lean closer to you.

“What’s your favorite color?” he asked.

Strange. Okay. You answered and then turned back to your notes.

“Why were you at the hospital if you knew you could get caught?”

“I was waiting for you.”

You paused.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s my turn. You can ask in a second. Where did you go for a week?”

“I was in Arizona. What do you mean when you say you were waiting for me?”

“We all get our own little agent. You’re mine. I knew you skipped town, and I knew you were friends with Emily. It was only a matter of time before you came back.”

You suppressed the chills you got from the tone of his voice. How many of them were there? Almost a dozen at least. Maybe-

“What were you doing in Arizona?”

You looked back up at him.

“Clearing my head. When you said you all have your own agent, does that mean that there are individual people assigned to every person on my unit? And that I’m your specific assignment?”

“Yes, and yes. Who was that pretty girl from a few weeks ago?”

Audrey. You forced yourself to relax despite your panic, focusing on the good. He didn’t actually know who she was. If he hadn’t known where you had gone last week, there was no way that he would know where she went.

“A friend. How many people are on your team?”

“There were ten, including myself and the bosses. The doctor’s guard is gone, so nine. Is she just a friend, though? I saw the way she touched you.”

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at you. You knew your team was watching, and even though it wasn’t something you hid from anyone, you were hesitant to speak about things like this when you knew they would deconstruct it later.

“We were more than friends at one time. What is the ultimate goal of your group? What are you trying to accomplish?”

“I don’t fully know. What does the doctor think about her?”

“What do you mean you don’t know? You’re laying down your life for a cause that you can’t name?”

You were shocked. Malcolm stayed silent, and you realized he was waiting on your answer first.

“He’s fine with her.”

“I’m more of a… contract work kind of man. They set out rules and I do my job and then I get paid. Is he a jealous man?”

“Sometimes,” you rushed. You didn’t want to dwell too much on that thought; you couldn’t help but think about your coworkers on the other side of the glass, what they would think about Spencer if you spoke too much about it. “Who contracted you to do this work?”

“A friend got me into the gig. I didn’t even see the boss’s faces, don’t know their names. Just know the info they give me during phone calls. Is he jealous that you’re here with me right now?”

“He doesn’t know I’m here. How long have you been watching us?”

“Three months. And lying to your man, just so you can spend time with me? I’m flattered. Do you think he would be jealous if he knew?”

Three months? That took dedication, time, lots of forethought. 

“No. Why did they kill that member of your team?”

“He couldn’t deliver what he promised,” he shrugged. “We were told to get information, but apparently he just wasn’t good at it. Have you ever killed a man?”

You paused. You hadn’t expected that to come up at all. Even if you wanted to, you could never forget Daniel. He had made sure of that.

“Yes,” you said finally. “Have you?”

“Yes. How did it feel, when you killed him?”

You were thrown off track, just like that. You looked down at your files, trying to regain your train of thought.

“I- I don’t remember. Uh… Who on our team is the main target?”

“Don’t lie to me.”

You looked back up at him, at his deadpan expression.

“How did it feel?” he repeated.

“Relieved,” you blurted.

“Hotchner is the main target. Why did it feel so good to kill him?”

You took a deep breath. This was getting to be too much. But leaving the room now would be a sign of weakness. You had to push through it. 

“Because he stabbed me,” you replied. “Do you know what Aaron Hotchner did to provoke your bosses?”

“No. Did he leave a scar?”

“Yes, he did. Do you know the names of any of your associates?”

“Yes and no. Can I see it?”

“No, you can’t. Could you give me some names?”

“I have to get something in return for that information.”

He leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. You shot him a frustrated look and he laughed.

“What? I already know what I did to you, I just want to see somebody else’s work for once. Please?”

You clenched your fists, debating on what to do. Giving him what he wanted put you at a disadvantage because it set a precedent; he knew you would give him almost anything if he asked. That being said, he had important information you needed. With an annoyed sigh, you stood up abruptly and pulled the side of your shirt up quickly so he could see the two little lines close to your belly button. After a few seconds, you pulled your shirt back down and plopped back into your chair.

“Could you give me some names?” you repeated, trying to keep a cool tone. 

“You are such a work of art,” Malcolm mused, looking at you dreamily. 

He was talking about you as if you were a canvas, an object, as if your value derived from the scars he and other men had left on your skin. You rarely showed off your body to anyone, much less a killer. You felt violated, allowing him to see you like that. Worse, you felt guilty that you allowed somebody other than Spencer to look at you. Although what you had just done was not sexual in any way, you knew Malcolm was getting off to it, which made it an inherently sexual act.

“Names?”

“Fine, fine. Josiah Crenshaw. That’s the only one I know. Probably an alias. Did the man hurt you as much as I did?”

“No.”

You suppressed a shiver thinking about that week that you had been tied to a chair. That reminded you of something.

“Why wasn’t I taken with Spencer two months ago? You killed someone like me; he thought it was me. But it wasn’t. Why not?”

“We still needed you as ammunition. We decided a replacement would work fine for the time being. Does the doctor hurt you?”

“He has a name,” you replied pointedly. Malcolm shook his head at you, an incredulous smile on his face.

“Dodging the question, huh? He has a heavy hand, doesn’t he?”

“He doesn’t hurt me,” you answered, trying to keep your patience. “Why did you take him first? Why not Emily?”

“You’re lying through your teeth right now.”

“I don’t have to prove my honesty to you. Why not Emily first?”

“Does he pull your hair as hard as I did? Or harder?”

“Answer the question.”

“Can he make you scream as loud as I can?”

“I’m not playing these games with you.”

This was starting to take a turn for the worse, and you could feel a slow blush creeping onto your face. You hadn’t taken into account how embarrassing it would be to have your coworkers watch someone else grill you on your sex life with Spencer. It was an invasion of privacy and a disgusting this to discuss with someone as repulsive as Malcolm. 

“Do you and the doctor like to play games?”

“Stay focused, Malcolm.”

“Does he spank you when you’re a bad girl?”

“Stop messing around and answer me.”

“I bet you like it when he puts his hands around your neck. I would give anything to choke you agai-”

“Enough.”

You stood up, grabbing your files.

“We can continue this conversation when you’re ready to behave yourself.”

“Aw, sweetheart, don’t be like that!” he protested.

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

You slammed the door behind you on your way out.


	38. Future

You half sprinted to the bathroom before anyone could come out of the observation room. You couldn’t look anyone in the eyes after that horrendous display, at least not for a day or two. You splashed your face with water, trying to get the light blush to go away. You hated every fucking second of this. To make matters worse, the door opened and JJ stepped in. You averted your eyes from the door, focusing on grabbing some paper towels and patting your face dry.

“Are you doing okay?” she asked concernedly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answered breezily.

“It’s okay if you’re not. You know nobody will judge you-”

“I said I’m fine,” you interrupted, making eye contact with her in the mirror. She paused.

“Okay. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Well we were going to go over it in the conference room if you’d like to join.”

“I think I’ll spend some time with Penny in her office.”

“Okay.”

She stood there for a moment, as if she was waiting for you to move. You were not about to face everyone else outside.

“I’ll see you later,” you prompted, turning back to your reflection in the mirror, picking at nonexistent flaws in your makeup.

JJ nodded and walked out, leaving you alone once again.

-

You were at Spencer’s place that night, cooking dinner with him. Sometimes he would hum along to the music playing lightly from the living room, other times tap the rhythm on the counter, but he was almost always touching you, whether it was your shoulders brushing against each other or a small kiss on your shoulder, a hand on your back or in your hair. You had originally thought he was possessive, but you had realized recently that it was a way for him to convey his care for you. He wanted you to know he was there, always paying attention, always checking in on you.

You enjoyed these domestic moments with him the most. In these moments, while you were stirring food in a pan on the stove and he was chopping vegetables, you were normal. You loved the look of pure concentration on his face as he handled the knife, pushing his glasses further up onto his nose, his bottom lip between his teeth as he tried to get the bell peppers in perfect little cubes. He really was something else.

You knew you were going to have to ruin this moment by telling him what you did today. But for now, in the safety of his little apartment, you chose to enjoy the reprieve from the outside world. Sure enough, the question came up at the dinner table.

“We didn’t do much. Played some poker, a lot of Scrabble. She only beat me a few times,” he said with a proud little smile, sipping lightly on his wine. You smiled back. You enjoyed hearing him talk about his day, especially considering he had been able to relax a little bit with Emily. You knew her friendship was important to him.

“How was your day? What did you do?” he asked.

You looked down at your plate and picked at your food as casually as possible.

“Not much,” you replied in an indifferent tone. “I spoke to Malcolm today.”

You kept your eyes on your plate, yet you could still see him stiffen in his seat. You heard the sound of him setting his fork onto his plate, and you saw his napkin disappear off of the table. You lifted your eyes guiltily towards his, watching as he wiped at his mouth slowly before setting his napkin back down.

“How did that go?” 

You could see he was holding something back, but you weren’t sure what it was. Anger? Sadness? Although you hadn’t technically betrayed him in any way, there was no mistaking what you had done. You had purposely waited for him to be distracted because you knew he wouldn’t approve.

“Um… we got some information that we needed.”

“How are you feeling? Are you okay?” he asked. You hadn’t expected that. You were waiting for him to get mad, explode, accuse you of lying to him. Perhaps he was getting better. You considered his question for a moment.

“No,” you admitted.

“Do you feel safe right now?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to talk about it? What can I do to help?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to have a normal night here with you, if that’s okay?”

“That’s perfectly fine with me.” He picked up his fork again. 

“I tried to play ‘Fergalicious’ as a word today and Emily wouldn’t let me. What do you think?”

-

The sex that night was slow, gentle. Spencer touched you in all the right places, guiding you sweetly and caringly to your orgasm, asking for almost nothing in return. When the both of you had finished, he went to lay beside you, taking you into his arms and holding you there for quite awhile. You rested your forehead on his chest, listening to his heartbeat while he stroked your hair. You had thought he was almost asleep until he shifted slightly, laying his chin on the top of your head. His next words were soft, almost as if he were afraid of speaking at all.

“Do you ever… want more than this?”

“Yes,” you replied hesitantly in a hushed voice. “Do you?”

“Yeah. I do.”

-

Despite your best efforts, Spencer was in attendance for your interrogation with Malcolm the next day. David had decided to sit with Emily, who only had a day or two left in the hospital before they cleared her to leave. You were excited to have her back soon, but still scared to talk to her too much. Your guilt was overwhelming any time you were around her. You still hadn’t asked what had happened to her; you didn’t want anything else plaguing your dreams at night.

“My favorite!” Malcolm exclaimed as you walked in the door.

“Good morning, Malcolm.”

“How are you today?” he asked almost mockingly.

“I’m fine,” you replied, taking the seat across from him.

“Just fine? Why not great?” he asked in that boisterous voice of his. Ugh.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I’m doing today?”

You sighed internally. You were going to have to play nice, no matter how much you didn’t want to.

“How are you doing today, Malcolm?”

“I’m fantastic!”

“Great. So when-”

“Wait!”

You looked up from your notes.

“Yes?”

“No small talk? Tell me about the rest of your day yesterday. Tell me about this morning. What did you do? I want to hear all about it.”

You resisted the urge to grit your teeth.

“Went home, made dinner, watched TV. Went to bed, woke up, ate breakfast. Now I’m here. What about you?”

“Oh, the usual criminal things,” he grinned. “What did you make for dinner?”

“Pasta. What did they give you?”

“A sandwich. Love a classic ham and cheese!”

“Cool. So-”

“What did you watch?”

You paused.

“Excuse me?”

“What did you watch on TV? I haven’t been up to date on all the cool shows. What do you watch in your spare time?”

“Documentaries, comedies, period pieces.”

You hadn’t been watching the period pieces as much recently; Spencer spent most of the time talking over the TV, critiquing the historical accuracy while you were just trying to mindlessly watch the drama unfold.

“What’s your favorite movie?”

“I don’t know, I have a lot. I really like the most recent Pride and Prejudice.”

“I like Tombstone.”

That sounded familiar.

“The old western?”

“Yes! Val Kilmer makes a mean Doc Holliday.”

“Nice. So anyways-”

“When’s your birthday again?”

“Stop,” you demanded. “I’m not here to chat with you. This isn’t funny, and I’m tired of wasting my time.”

“Someone’s a little catty today.”

You frowned.

“If I was a man you would say that I was taking charge of the situation. Calling me catty is sexist.”

“What, does the kitty not get enough attention?”

His words were a double entendre and he knew it, grinning knowingly at you from across the table. You ignored his question.

“When were you originally contracted to do this work?”

“Does the doctor not give you enough attention? I can fix that, you know.”

He winked.

“I’m done,” you said, gathering your files into your arms. “Obviously you won’t cooperate anymore. We’ll make sure to expedite your sentencing as a favor.”

“Wait!”

You paused in the doorway, almost smiled. You caught him, and he knew it. The longer he drew out his time with the team, the longer he put off his death sentence. The second that he wasn’t useful anymore, he was going to die, or go to jail at the very least.

“For what?” you asked.

“I’ll cooperate.”

“Okay, well you do that,” you said, reaching for the door handle.

“No more games, I promise.”

“Alright,” you replied, opening the door. “You can tell that to somebody else.”

The look on his face was priceless. But you weren’t joking. You were done.

You sat with JJ, Spencer, and Morgan in the observation room as Hotch grilled Malcolm later that day. You realized that though Malcolm was big and cocky, he was still insecure. He liked picking on you specifically because he perceived you as weaker than him. He had been your personal watcher- he knew more about you than anyone else on the team, so it made sense that he would ask to speak with you. He had more leverage over you than everybody else. Malcolm almost physically shrank under Hotch’s glare. He had lost the only advantage that he had- antagonizing you. 

You sat on the end next to Spencer while JJ and Morgan sat on his other side. As the interrogation got more intense, you felt Spencer inconspicuously reach for your hand in the dark. You shot him a look. You had agreed to keep this outside of work. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye and squeezed your hand softly before returning it back to his lap. The last thing you needed was for JJ or Morgan to snitch on you to Hotch. Not that you thought they necessarily would, but you knew JJ wasn’t your biggest fan at the moment. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate Spencer’s comfort; you truly did. But the both of you were on thin ice, you more so than him, and you didn’t want to risk getting in trouble. You did, however, scoot your chair a little closer to his so that your knees were touching. It wasn’t much, but you knew it was important to him. You could feel him slightly relax next to you. 

It was getting increasingly difficult to sit through the interrogation. Although Malcolm’s taunting and cocky attitude had been replaced with one of seriousness, he was still defiant and bold, openly describing just a fraction of the disgusting things that he had done to you in horrific detail. Most of it you remembered, some of it you didn’t. 

You could practically taste Spencer’s tension next to you, could feel how stiff he was in his chair. JJ and Morgan were trying not to look at you, but you caught how they ever so slightly glanced in your direction to make sure you were okay. You were starting to breathe a bit more heavily from the fear and panic that the memories brought you. Accompanied by Malcolm’s voice, they were absolutely terrifying. Even though your heart and mind were racing, you kept your hands calmly in your lap, forcing yourself to relax against the back of your chair. You could do this.

And then Malcolm started to talk about Emily. Most of it was arbitrary, crude little jabs and misogynistic remarks. But there was one comment he made that alarmed you. 

“Why don’t you ask her kids?”

You turned to Spencer, questions in your eyes.

“What is he talking about?” you whispered.

Spencer shook his head slightly. Not now. But you needed to know, the dread slowly creeping in on you as you thought more about it.

“What did that mean?” you asked insistently, trying not to let Derek and JJ hear you.

“I’ll tell you later,” he muttered back. He still refused to look at you, and you realized why.

“What did they do?”

“Later.”

“Spencer.”

Your voice was dangerously close to panic. Spencer spared a look at you, and his face said it all. Oh. Oh no.

You felt a sob in the back of your throat, and you left quickly before anyone could see the tears in your eyes. You were starting to hate this bathroom.

There was one thing you knew about Emily, one thing you were certain about. She wanted kids. She had a real maternal instinct, she loved children. She had volunteered to adopt children from previous cases before, you knew how much that meant to her. You knew that even if a child wasn’t biologically hers, she would still love and cherish them anyways. 

But what if the choice to have a biological child had been ripped away from her? You hadn’t seen her full body since everything had happened, she was always covered in blankets at the hospital. Her stay there was entirely prolonged, longer than both yours and Spencer’s, and you had been in even worse shape than him. Most of the damage the two of you had suffered was external; only internal damage would require a longer stay.

You couldn’t do this. You just couldn’t. You knew you needed to be strong, you knew you had Spencer and your team to lean on, but mentally you weren’t sure if you could take it anymore. Rationally, you knew it wasn’t your fault. But the thought that part of Emily’s future, Emily’s happiness, had been ripped away because you hadn’t been strong enough was too much to bear. If you were stronger, if you had held on at least a few more days, maybe it wouldn’t have ended up like this.

You gripped the edge of the sink in the bathroom, trying to pull yourself together. This was probably the most difficult thing you had ever done. How could you look Emily in the eyes again? You knew that if you had stayed any longer in that place, you would have died. But sometimes…

Sometimes you wondered what life would be like if you had just died. Two near-death experiences in less than a year was not a normal thing for this team, you knew. What if you weren’t supposed to be here? What if the mere presence of your existence is what caused the misfortune of the people around you?

You knew you weren’t in the right state of mind for this. You knew being left alone to your own devices was not a good idea. But you couldn’t go back in there. You were too cowardly to face the consequences of your actions. You shot Spencer a text, grabbing some extra paper towels just in case you needed to blow your nose.

You went to Penny’s office, knocking on her door softly. You entered at her reply. Her cheerful demeanor dissolved when she saw the look on your face, the obvious signs that you had been crying.

“Oh, sweetie. Are you okay?” she asked, holding her arms out to you. You had never cried in front of her before. But you shook your head and hugged her anyways, taking comfort in the familiar smell of her perfume and the way she held you tightly. She turned away from her computers as you sat in the chair next to her, trying not to let any more tears fall.

“How do you do it?” you asked, sniffling. “How can you do this, over and over again?”

She reached over, wiping a stray tear off of your cheek with her perfectly manicured hand.

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “I just… I have to create my own world, one outside of here. This one will tear you apart if you let it.”

“It’s just so hard. I look at my body and I see what he did. I have to walk up the stairs to my apartment every day, see the place where he took me, and I don’t know how much longer I can do that. And Emily, she-”

You got choked up, so much so that you knew you’d cry even harder if you kept talking. So you shut your mouth, biting at your tongue to keep yourself from losing it. Penny nodded understandingly.

“I know. I know how that is. A few years ago, this guy… this cop… I just got too close to finding out information that he didn’t want me to know and he shot me on my doorstep. There’s a little bit of the bloodstain still left there on the concrete, and I have to walk past it every single day. And every single day I choose not to look down at it, choose not to let myself think about it. Because it’s over now. And this will be over soon, too.”

She was right. Nothing is permanent, at least not in a circumstantial way like this one. It was only a matter of time before this passed. But…

“What about the next thing? And the one after that? How do you not want to leave?”

“I want to leave sometimes,” she admitted. “But this team, those people out there, they need me. And even if someone replaced me, it wouldn’t be the same. What do you even do after a job like this? We save lives. Everything else seems really small in comparison to that.”

The two of you didn’t talk much after that. You just sat next to her, head propped up on your hand, watching her work. Spencer had texted you, telling you that the team was going to go over Malcolm’s interrogation again, but you couldn’t bring yourself to join them. Hotch was right. You were way too close to this one. It wasn’t healthy for you to work through it with everyone else. So you spent the rest of the day silently in your friend’s company, thinking absentmindedly about your own future.


	39. Home

A few days later, Emily was back. She had some color back in her cheeks, though she still looked a bit thinner than she had before. She walked a lot more slowly, and you watched her check the clock often. You realized she was probably in way more pain than she let on; she was checking to see when she could take more medicine. 

Other than your antibiotics, the doctors had just given you instructions for larger doses of ibuprofen if the pain flared up. Judging from the size and shape of Emily’s pills, she was on something stronger. Although it was slow-going, she was allowed back on the case. 

You absolutely loathed sitting at your desk while you watched the rest of the team in the conference room. Yes, you had put yourself there for your own well-being, but you hated that you were missing out on everything that everyone else was doing. You tried not to stare, but every once in awhile you would look up to see Spencer keeping an eye on you through the glass.

You were essentially on desk duty, handling files and advising local police departments all over the US. Work had been piling up remarkably over the past few weeks, but Strauss essentially put the team on lockdown until this whole debacle was dealt with, most of the work being handed off to other departments. The buddy system rule was still in place. Most people rotated who they were staying with and where they would sleep, but it was an unspoken agreement at this point that you and Spencer were the exception. Part of you was thankful for that; you enjoyed spending so much time with him. On the other hand, you didn’t particularly like that what the two of you had was public knowledge. It’s not that you wanted your relationship with him to be a secret forever, but you had wanted to acknowledge it with everyone on your own terms. Not like this. 

Spencer was driving your car to his place that evening. Traffic getting out of town fucking sucked, apparently construction was happening on top of some torrential rain, and it seemed like the two of you were going to be there awhile, inching forward sometimes and outright stopping in others. You had commandeered the radio, playing whatever you wanted through the speakers and singing lightly in the passenger seat. Even though Spencer didn’t particularly like music that wasn’t classical, he didn’t seem to mind. You even caught him mumbling lyrics under his breath to songs that you played often around him. 

At one point while the two of you were at a standstill, he unexpectedly reached forward and turned the stereo volume way down. You turned to look at him. He obviously had something he wanted to say.

“Who is Adam?” 

You froze in your seat. There was no way.

“There’s a lot of Adams out there,” you replied shortly, hoping he would drop it. In stubborn Spencer fashion, he didn’t.

“You know which one I’m talking about.”

“How did you get that name, Spencer?”

There was only one way he could possibly have known, and that was if he had done some extremely deep diving into your past. That was a big no-no with the team, very much against the rules of trust and privacy. Spencer sighed, clenching and unclenching his hands around the steering wheel.

“Emily said that you asked for him. During everything, she said that you asked for Adam, asked where he was. I told them that I would ask you before they decided to just find it themselves. So. Who is he?”

There was just a slight edge of bitterness in his voice.

“I can’t believe it. You’re jealous,” you replied incredulously.

“And?”

“And what? Why are you asking me about this? It doesn’t pertain to the case. That’s all you need to know.”

“Does it pertain to me?”

“Are you seriously implying that I’m involved with somebody else?”

You were almost completely turned around in your seat facing him, but he was staring intently at the road even though the car wasn’t moving. His cheeks were flushed, his brow furrowed. He was embarrassed.

“No,” he denied. “I just… I need to know. Why is he so important to you?"

“Was.”

“What?”

“He _was_ important to me.”

There must have been something about the tone of your voice, because Spencer stole a glance at you, his next words cautious.

“Is he alive?”

“Not anymore, no,” you replied.

“Who was he?”

You hadn’t thought in-depth about this in a long time. To be honest, it had crossed your mind fleetingly in recent months, but for the most part you had suppressed it for years, hoping that maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much as it used to. It still kind of stung.

“He was my boyfriend,” you admitted. “In college. He went hiking with some friends the day after some heavy rain.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“How come you’ve never told me about him?”

“It was a long time ago. I was a very different person. Are you the same person you were ten years ago?”

“No, I suppose not.”

He paused for a moment before speaking again.

“You’ve never told me about being with anyone else.”

“Because I haven’t been.”

His eyes flicked concernedly to your face before returning to the road. The tension in the car was palpable. You really didn’t want to do this right now. But there was no getting out, no leaving. You had to ride it out.

“Ten years?” he asked quietly.

The way he said it made you feel ashamed. It’s not like you hadn’t been with anyone at all. You still partied, you still slept with people. But you hadn’t been in a serious relationship since Adam.

“Give or take.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“I’m sure you’ve had the opportunity since then. Why not?”

“I just never found anyone that I liked.”

“I don’t believe that.”

You frowned.

“I don’t care what you believe, Spencer.”

“Yes, you do.”

“It’s none of your business.”

He sighed exasperatedly, turning to face you completely.

“We can’t keep going back and forth like this. You said you wanted more. This is it. This is more. It’s not always good things; you have to give more to get more. Let yourself be vulnerable for once. You can’t live life on the defensive. You can’t just keep everything inside like that. Tell me why.”

He was right. As much as you knew how important it was, you hated this. There were some things you wanted to keep to yourself. But if you wanted more, you had to open up. You couldn’t keep secrets forever.

“When I went through his stuff after, I found a ring.”

Spencer’s anxious hands stilled on the steering wheel. He was quiet for a moment, the only sounds being the rain, the car’s heater, and the music you still had playing softly in the background.

“Would you have said yes?” he asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly.

“Did-” 

He swallowed nervously.

“Did you love him?”

There was a hidden question after that one, silent yet unmistakable.

_Do you love me?_

“Yes,” you replied softly. “I did.”

“Do you still love him?”

“Spencer, don’t do that.”

“So, you do.”

He sounded almost defeated. The sound only made you more upset; you had told him you didn’t want to talk about it, and now he was hurting his own feelings about something that wasn’t relevant anymore.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked frustratedly. “That I don’t care anymore? Whether or not we were going to get married, we still had plans, we still had a future. Feelings like that don’t just go away. There are just some things that will never be resolved. He was out of state. I wasn’t going to make it. His friends held the phone up to his ear so I could say goodbye, except he was asleep, and the doctors said he was never going to wake up again. The only thing I could hear was the ventilator keeping him breathing. I didn’t get to hear him say goodbye, I didn’t get the closure of him telling me I could move on. He was cremated. I didn’t even get to see him again. One day he left and he just never came back home.”

Spencer was still, sitting silent for too long. You felt bad for getting upset at him, but what were you supposed to do? You had warned him, told him he didn’t want to know. Now he was upset about something that, though once very important to you, didn’t matter as much anymore. You started to backtrack a little, filling the silence with words that you hoped would make him feel better.

“I mean,” you started gently, “do you ever really stop loving anyone? It’s like… once you love someone, they carve a place in your heart so that even when they’re gone, they’ll always be there. Even if you wish you didn’t care, there will always be a missing piece where they were.”

Silence.

“That’s so violent,” he finally said. 

“What?”

“Is that how you see love? Like some forceful thing that just… happens to you? There’s only so much room in your heart, only so much you can take away. What happens when you have nothing left?”

“It’s not like you can control who you love.”

“But you make it sound like it’s a bad thing. Like an attack.”

“Well, what do you think it’s like?”

He was silent for a moment.

“Home.”

You sat quietly, patiently waiting for him to explain.

“It takes time to build a house. And then once it’s complete, someone moves in. But sometimes people move away, or they tear their houses down. Sometimes it sneaks up on you. One day it’s an empty lot, and then another there’s a house. But an empty house is just an object until someone moves in and makes it a home.”

“Oh. I see.”

Spencer was an intricate person, but there was a subtle passion behind the simplicity of his words. You couldn’t help but think of how sometimes, when you were upset, you’d stand in the middle of your own empty apartment and think about how you wanted to go home. You lived there, but it wasn’t a home by any means.

And then you thought about your phone conversation with Spencer when you were in Arizona.

He had asked you to come home.

In the most gentle and delicate way, here in standstill traffic on the way home from work, he was telling you that he loved you.

And yes, right now you were on your way home, because that’s what it was when you were with him.

His hazel eyes were searching your face earnestly, as if he was waiting for something, waiting for you to understand, to say it back. But he hadn’t actually said that he loved you, and you were having trouble thinking of a proper response without outright saying that you loved him too. You reached over gently to the steering wheel so that you could hold one of his hands, kissing the back of it lightly before resting it in your lap.

“Let’s go home,” you said softly.


	40. Later

Your eyes snapped open and you tried to sit up, but the world was spinning too much. Your whole body hurt. The ringing in your ears made you disoriented, nauseous, and your jagged breathing didn’t make it any easier. You stayed low on the concrete, trying to process what was going on. But there were too many stimuli, too many distractions, and all you could focus on was the weirdly shaped puddle of blood on the concrete. You lifted a hand to your forehead, feeling a sting, and when you drew your hand back it was covered in blood. 

You turned your head, trying to understand what had happened. It was dark. You were laying between two cars. Parking garage. Your heartbeat and the car alarms going off were so loud that you couldn’t think straight, weird sounds and lights that you couldn’t make out because you couldn’t even process your own thoughts. You were so dizzy. What were you doing before this?

Walking. With-

Spencer. He had been right next to you. Your snapped up, and you forced yourself to sit up despite the vertigo, looking around frantically. You couldn’t see anyone at all, just smoke and cars and flashing lights. You felt like you were going to throw up.

“Spencer?” you called. Or at least you thought you said something. If you did, you were sure there was panic in your voice, but you couldn’t hear anything, not even yourself. God your head was starting to hurt from all the noise, you couldn’t fucking THINK. 

“Spencer?!” you asked again, louder this time. It felt like you were yelling, maybe you were, maybe you weren’t. You struggled to stand, using a car to help hold yourself up. And then someone’s hands were on you, on your shoulders, and you whirled around in panic. Surely you had screamed, but you couldn’t quite hear it yet. 

It was David, his hair askew, his suit covered in dust and rubble, small cuts all over his face and hands. He was mouthing something at you but you couldn’t understand, and then he grabbed your shoulders and forced you down into a crouch. Sparks went off nearby. Bullets.

The parking garage was a warzone. 

People were shooting at you. Bombs. It had to have been a bomb. Maybe two small ones or one big one, but-

And then Rossi was moving, pulling you along with him through the cars, weaving around until you saw Derek, hiding behind an SUV with a gun in his hand, shooting back at whoever was shooting at you. Your gun. You checked your holster and then realized you didn’t have it on you. You had left it at your desk. You were walking the team to the garage because they were transporting Malcolm somewhere else. You didn’t think you’d need it.

You wished this wasn’t real, hoped that maybe it was just a really vivid dream. But the smoke and the car alarms and the distinct sound of gunshots ricocheting off of random vehicles was a stark reminder that this was, in fact, very, very real. 

-

If someone had told you that your day ended in a random shootout, you wouldn’t have believed them. You had woken up in Spencer’s arms early, too early for your alarms, so early that the sun hadn’t quite risen yet, just a small discoloration in the sky. 

Spencer had thrown his arm around you from behind, buried his face into your neck and gave you small kisses there, on your shoulders, your back, everywhere he could reach. You chuckled lightly; his feathery touch tickled. You rolled over in bed to see him staring at you intently. He had this look on this face; the closest you could think of would perhaps be adoration. You smiled at him.

Waking up next to him was one of your favorite things. You loved his messy hair, his deep voice, the little yawns he made as he tried to shake sleep off. You loved how no matter where you were or what time of day it was, he was always touching you, always leaning in for a kiss, always brushing your hair away from your face so that he could see your smile more clearly, so that he could kiss you better. Sometimes he would talk first thing in the mornings, but mostly he didn’t. Today was a quiet day, because even as you smiled sleepily at him he said nothing, just smiled back at you.

He reached over to cup your cheek in his hand and leaned in for a chaste kiss. You started to draw away, but then he was kissing you everywhere, kisses landing on your nose, cheeks, and forehead. They weren’t soft, early morning kisses like they usually were. They were quick, playful. You scrunched your eyes closed and laughed, and then suddenly he was tipping you over onto your back, straddling you.

You gasped and grabbed his forearms in shock, looking up at him with surprise on your face. He leaned down to kiss you again, slowly but ever playful, his hands wandering up and down your body as if he were memorizing it, savoring this moment. Before you had a chance to say anything, he was tickling you, his fingers moving quickly against your skin.

“Spencer!”

You laughed, trying to grab at his wrists, his arms, anything to keep him off of you. But he was relentless, grinning as you squirmed underneath him, trying to buck him off. Soon the both of you were laughing breathlessly. After you had begged him to stop, he did, moving forward to prop himself up on his forearms so that his face was right above yours, the both of you panting and giggling.

“Good morning,” he said with a smile, and you stretched upwards to give him a small kiss before plopping back down onto the pillows.

“Hi.”

You felt safe there, caged in his arms. You felt safe in the car when he drove the both of you to work. You felt safe even as you sat at your desk and watched him work diligently on your case in the conference room, biting his lip and frowning every once in awhile. You felt safe until you didn’t. 

You were in the middle of eating lunch in Penny’s office, of all things. You hadn’t been paying attention to her work, but a lapse in the conversation had your eyes wandering. There were multiples video feeds pulled up on one of her screens, all of them seeming to be different interrogation sessions with Malcolm. One of them caught your attention.

“Hey, is that-?”

Before Penny could close the tabs, you were leaning in closer to look at one of the little squares on her screen. One of them was very clearly Spencer, alone, with Malcolm. He hadn’t told you about that. It’s not that you had specifically asked him not to tell you things about the case, but you didn’t want to be completely in the dark. The thought that Spencer was anywhere near him made you feel uneasy, almost sick. You knew Spencer wasn’t in the right headspace when it came to Malcolm, and you were very concerned about what that could mean for him. 

“Don’t be mad!” Penny burst out. You turned to look at her.

“Why would I be mad? Is there a reason that all of you were keeping this from me? If it doesn’t matter that much, then why are you hiding it?”

“Well, you see-”

You pressed play before she had even finished her sentence.

-

You were waiting nervously on the roof, shaking lightly from the strong breeze. The weather had been getting cooler, and you hadn’t brought the best jacket today. You were also shaking from nerves; you had texted Spencer to meet you up here when he could, and you had no idea when he was going to show. You had been up there maybe ten minutes before the door opened, and you turned to face him.

“Is everything alright?” he asked concernedly, walking over and reaching out to put his hands on your hips. You took a small step back to get yourself out of his reach and he dropped his arms, a look of defeat coming over his face. You were still silent, staring accusatorily up at him. He sighed, and at that point you knew that he realized he had been found out. You were just waiting for an explanation, something to help you understand why he would have done that.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Is that it? Just sorry?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then what? What else do you have to say, Spencer? How could you tell him those things about me?”

Malcolm liked to play games, but apparently not just with you.

“You don’t understand,” Spencer started. “He’s almost obsessed with you, he won’t stop asking for you, ask where you are, what you’re doing. Begs us to bring you by and I can’t do that to you. You asked to be left out of it, and Emily can’t do it either, so I’m the closest alternative.”

A bigger breeze blew by, and you folded your arms around yourself to keep warmer. 

“Why did you tell him about Adam?”

“What?”

You realized you had almost mumbled your sentence. You spoke up.

“Why did you talk about Adam? Why did you tell him about my family, about Audrey, about Arizona? He doesn’t deserve to know that. Nobody does. I told you because I thought you wouldn’t repeat it to anyone else. Why did you tell him anything about me?”

“I didn’t- I didn’t want to tell him those things. You know that, right?”

“Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looked like a dick measuring contest. I don’t understand why you felt you had to prove that you know me better than he does.”

Spencer clenched and unclenched his fists a few times. Finally, he spoke.

“He laid his hands on you. That is unforgivable. And then, he was acting as if he actually knew you, talking about how he thought you loved it when he-”

He paused for a moment, trying to regain control of himself, squeezing his eyes shut as his jaw stiffened. He opened his eyes and started again.

“I couldn’t let him think for a single second that he actually knew anything about you. You are so much more than an object, so much more than-”

He stopped in the middle of his sentence, the fire in his eyes dying down. You stood there silently, teeth lightly chattering, waiting for him to continue. He looked you up and down for a moment before he unwound his scarf from his neck, taking a small step closer so that he could wrap it snugly around you instead. He fluffed it out a little as he bit his lip, making sure that you were adequately covered. He pulled your hair out from underneath it, brushing the stray strands behind your ears. 

“How is that? Better?” he asked finally, stepping away to give you the space that you had wanted.

Definitely warmer. It smelled like him too, peppermint and old books, a comforting smell that you were happy to be surrounded by more often as of late. You were still upset, of course, but this small act of caring made your heart melt a little. 

“I’m fine.”

He frowned a little.

“Obviously, you’re not. I’m sorry for betraying your trust like that. It’s not an excuse, but he just makes me so fucking angry. I can’t think straight when I’m around him. And you… you know how I can sometimes get jealous. It’s not healthy, I know. I’m working on it. Although I appreciate you not telling him I was like that all the time.”

You froze, feeling a light blush settling over your face.

“You watched my tapes?”

Spencer’s face immediately turned to guilt.

“I’m so sorry. We needed it for the investigation, I promise I didn’t want to do that.”

You covered your face with your hands, but all too soon Spencer was prying them away from your warm cheeks, questions in his eyes.

“What is it?” he asked concernedly.

“No, it’s really nothing, I-”

“Tell me anyways. Even if it’s nothing.”

“You heard what he said about you?”

Spencer bit his lip, and you realized that the twitching from the corner of his mouth was because he was trying not to laugh.

“It’s not funny!” you said, smacking his arm lightly. The action only made him smile more, and soon he was laughing as you stood there defiantly.

“Stop laughing!”

“You’re seriously worried about that? He objectifies you and you have little to no problem with that, but you’re embarrassed about what he said about me?”

“Yeah, but he said it in front of our coworkers, and-”

“And what? What are they going to do about it? Relationships come with special privileges, they know that.”

The look on your face prompted him to become a little more serious. He bent down so he was almost eye-level with you, reaching out to cup your cheek with his cold hand.

“I know you don’t like it when he talks about me. And I know you feel like he was invading your privacy. I’m sorry for giving up information about you without your consent, and I’m sorry that he’s making you feel so uncomfortable. When we get home, let’s talk about some boundaries you’d like to set. Is that alright?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. You weren’t too quick to forgive him, but his willingness to make up for it and prevent it from happening again definitely put you at ease.

“So… did you watch the entire video?”

You shook your head.

“I got about halfway through before I got mad and left.”

“You didn’t hear the best part, then.”

Spencer smiled softly, moving his hand into your hair so that he could lean in, putting his mouth to your ear. You put your hands on his warm chest, resting your head on his shoulder.

“He asked me,” he started, settling his free hand on your hip, “how it felt to kiss you.”

He kissed your jaw lightly.

“How it feels when I pull your hair.”

He tugged lightly, not enough to cause any pain, but enough to startle you. You were frozen in place, but your face felt hot, too hot, so hot that you almost wanted to take the scarf off because you were starting to sweat underneath it. 

“How it feels when I fuck you.”

He squeezed your hip in his hand, using his leverage to pull you ever closer to him. You were breathing heavily now, your heartbeat erratic, unsure of what to say. You buried your head in his shoulder instead, squeezing your eyes shut as you listened intently to what he had to say.

“And do you know what I told him?” Spencer asked.

“What?” you whispered.

“I told him that he would _never-”_

He leaned in even closer to your ear and you half-gasped for air at the feeling of his lips on your skin, twisting his shirt in your hands.

“ _-ever,_ get to know what those things felt like. If he touches you again, I swear to god, I will kill him.”

He pulled away, cupping your cheeks in his hands, his hazel eyes insistent. 

“I will never let anything happen to you. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly.

“Good.”

He leaned in, giving you a small kiss on the forehead.

“Let’s go back inside,” he said, turning to leave. He grabbed your hand, and you stumbled rather than walked alongside him. He stopped and glanced down at you again, but you continued to just stand there, trying not to look at him at all.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Darling,” he remarked. You looked up to see him shaking his head lightly as he smirked. You tried to keep your expression blank, your face still burning up.

“You’re turned on right now, aren’t you?”

“No,” you lied, shaking your head profusely.

“Don’t lie to me,” he replied, reaching out to take your jaw into one of his hands. “Do you really think that I would fuck you right now, up against that wall, at work, in the middle of the day while all of our coworkers wonder where we went?”

“N- no.”

“Do you want me to?”

It felt like he had stolen the breath out of your lungs.

“Yes.”

“You are too adorable,” he grinned, rubbing his thumb lightly along your bottom lip. You opened your mouth, moving forward slightly so that you could suck lightly on his thumb. His face suddenly became very serious, as if he were mesmerized by the sight of your lips around his finger. After a few moments, he ever so slowly drew his hand away from your face, a light popping sound coming from your mouth as he moved his hand to stroke your hair gently.

“Later,” he said. “I promise.”


	41. Wait

You knew it was going to be a late night. Malcolm had exhausted his worth, that much was clear. He was being transported to a local prison for more processing to await a hearing and then a trial. Because of the constant surveillance of the team and the high organization of whoever was behind all of this, the team had decided to transport Malcolm personally in the middle of the night, under cover of darkness.

You had waited at your desk, even though Spencer and others had insisted that you could go home, that you didn’t need to stay. But you wanted to stay, wanted to support your team and be there for them, even if you couldn’t participate. 

You were all in the parking garage, making your way to the armored van. You hung back behind the group with Spencer, holding his hand subtly in the dim lighting.

“Stay safe, okay?” you said.

“You know I always do.”

He smiled at you, sneaking a glance at the group before leaning over to quickly kiss the top of your head. The two of you let go of each other’s hands so that you could quickly catch up to the team, taking a shortcut between cars. You had been walking way too slowly. You glanced at him over the hood of one of the vehicles and he shot you a playful look back. He started walking more quickly so you did too, the both of you starting to increase your speed so you could race each other, ducking between cars to get to the group faster. You tried to contain your laughter; this wasn’t a time for games, you knew, but the two of you had to find some kind of happiness in this dreary job.

Spencer’s legs were longer so he beat you, meeting up with the back of the group before you could. You were only about 20 feet away but you slowed down to catch your breath as he turned around to walk backwards, giving you a goofy grin. 

And then all hell broke loose. 

Now here you were, bleeding and disoriented, sheltered behind an SUV while car alarms blared, Rossi and Morgan shooting at whoever was shooting at you. You were absolutely terrified. You had never been in a shootout before, and you didn’t have your gun. You were utterly useless. You were behind the two men, trying to peer around them while ducking between shots, trying to figure out the sources of the shooters so you could help them aim in the right direction. 

And then someone was grabbing at you from behind, pulling you flush against them, their arms wrapping around your neck in a chokehold. You yelped, your feet scrabbling against the concrete as you tried to regain your footing, all the while being dragged backwards. Your cry alerted your teammates and they turned to look at you as you heard the voice of your captor.

“Hello again, kitty.”

Malcolm’s sour breath washed over your face. His arms were digging so tightly into your neck that you could barely breathe, gasping for air as Rossi and Morgan trained their guns on the man behind you. You were clawing at him, trying to pry Malcolm off of you, but you were too off balanced, not prepared enough to fight him off. It was a useless endeavor; one of your hands was still weak in its cast anyways. Your nails weren’t long enough, weren’t sharp enough to even make a dent in his skin, and you felt more than heard him laugh against you.

“What are you gonna do?” he taunted. “Shoot her?”

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Morgan shouted over the cacophony. “We can still get you a good deal, a better bargain than what you’ve got. All you have to do is let go.”

“And why should I trust you?”

“You can’t,” Rossi chimed in. “But we have kept our word so far, and you have kept yours. This is an act of good faith. Help us help you.”

“What do you think?” Malcolm murmured to you, squeezing your neck more tightly between his arms. “Do you want me to let you go, sweetheart?”

You choked, inclining your head upwards so that you could get at least a partial breath in. You were getting dangerously close to blackout territory, little black dots starting to form in your vision. You tried to form a word, any word at all. You weren’t above begging at this point. All you wanted was to be away from him, be free of his disgusting grasp. 

The four of you were still being shot at. Any stray bullet from your team members or Malcolm’s crew could easily kill you; you were a human shield at this point. And the dumbest thing of all is that you weren’t that scared of dying, you weren’t afraid to leave this life behind. You were disappointed because you had been waiting on a package in the mail that hadn’t arrived yet. 

You had noticed Spencer’s mug was missing from the kitchen cabinet earlier in the week, and when you asked Penny, you found out that he had accidentally broken it while you were gone. It had taken a lot of time and secret research when he wasn’t around, but you had finally found one that was almost exactly like the original. You ordered two of them; one for work and one for home, so that he had a backup in case one of them broke again. It was supposed to arrive in the next two or three days and you were really looking forward to seeing how excited Spencer was going to be to see it. 

You were probably about to die, and you were thinking about a damn coffee cup. 

All of a sudden Malcolm’s hold on you loosened and you could breathe again. You coughed at the influx of air into your lungs, choking on your own breath and spit as you lunged forward out of Malcolm’s grasp, tripping over your feet in your haste to get away. Derek rushed to catch you in his arms before you fell, helping hold you up until you could breathe normally.

You look backwards and saw Malcolm lying dead on the concrete, blood pooling out of a gaping wound in the side of his head, the ghost of a grin on his face. And then Spencer was there, gun in his hands, rushing over to crouch next to the three of you. There was dried blood that ran from his nose to his chin, staining the front of his shirt under his vest.

“Is she alright?” he asked Morgan. You could barely hear him over the constant blaring of the car alarms, but you felt his warm hand firmly settle between your shoulder blades. 

“I think she’ll be okay. Do you know where everyone else is?”

“Emily and JJ are a few rows up and over. We can’t find Hotch.”

Your stomach sank, and the four of you realized very quickly what had happened. The gunshots were quickly dying off, fading away as tires squealed on what you assumed to be a getaway car. Spencer and Rossi sprinted towards the noise as Derek watched, still helping support you as your heart started to return to a steady rhythm. Soon the only sounds left were some residual car alarms and a distant fire somewhere on the other side of the garage.

Emily and JJ quickly joined you and Morgan, with Spencer and Rossi returning not too long after that. The girls looked alright at first glance; JJ’s hair was askew, some scratches littering one side of her body while Emily looked relatively untouched except for little cuts here and there that had barely wept any blood.

“He’s gone.”

You were able to stand straight now, and you were looking at the faces of your team. What were you going to do without a leader? Something about Emily’s face drew you to look at her more closely. She was pale, sweat beading on her brow.

“Em?” you asked. “Are you-”

And then she fainted, collapsing forward. JJ and Spencer caught her before she hit the ground. Derek kneeled in front of her, holding her face in his hands.

“Emily? Emily, are you with me?”

You quickly turned to JJ.

“Did she do a lot of running?”

JJ nodded.

“That might have ripped up some of her stitches,” Derek said grimly. “We need to get her to the hospital right now.”

There were already fire truck sirens going off, coming closer by the second. Emily had started to open her eyes, looking at Derek with a dazed expression on her face.

“I can take her,” you volunteered quickly. “My car is only a few floors down, it’ll be okay.”

Spencer shot you a look.

“Are you okay to drive right now?”

“I can’t go out in the field right now,” you replied. “It’s the best decision to make. Help me get her down there, let’s go. Emily?”

You took Morgan’s place in front of her, waiting until her eyes focused on you before continuing.

“We’re gonna get you to the hospital, okay? I need you to walk with me. Can you do that? JJ and Rossi are going to help.”

“Wait-” Spencer protested.

“You work best with Morgan,” you countered. “It’s in our best interest to keep the two of you together.”

Spencer pursed his lips in disagreement while Rossi moved to take his place under one of Emily’s arms. You didn’t the time or energy to argue with him, and ultimately he knew you were right. Rossi and JJ lifted Emily up a little more, supporting her so that they could help you quickly get her to your vehicle. You led the way, the four of you silent. The atmosphere was grim. What in the world were you going to do?

The three of you strapped Emily into the back seat.

“Um,” you started awkwardly. “I need one of you to cover me. I don’t have my gun. The other can go back to the office with the team, figure this out.”

JJ and Rossi exchanged looks.

“I’ll go with her,” Rossi said gently. JJ nodded in silent thanks.

“I can drive you back up to them,” you offered. JJ shook her head.

“It’s only a few floors, I’ll be fine. Get to the hospital as fast as you can.”

“I’ll keep her safe,” you promised. Rossi climbed into the back seat of your SUV while you hopped into the driver’s seat. Your hands were shaking as you placed them on the steering wheel.

-

Spencer’s POV

Spencer was anxious, his thoughts racing so fast that he could barely process them. Hotch was gone, you and Emily were down for the count. Rossi had to stay with the two of you at the hospital. That was half the team, gone. 

Fuck, he was so out of it. He needed to focus. 

The only singular thing that gave him a slight comfort was the fact that he had kept his promise to you. Malcolm had touched you, so Spencer had killed him. And even then, Spencer couldn’t relish in the thought because he had to watch as you were being choked out, your toes barely touching the ground, your panicked hands clawing at Malcolm’s arms as you struggled to breathe. You had looked so small in that moment, and Spencer was reminded of how vulnerable you were right now. You didn’t have a gun on you, and even if you did you wouldn’t be able to shoot as accurately. 

Rossi was with you, he reminded himself. You were going to be okay. Emily was at the hospital. She was going to be okay.

Hotch, on the other hand…

Jack had been placed in protective custody with Beth weeks ago. He was going to be safe, but even then there were phone calls made to make sure everything was alright. Really and truly, the only bright spot was that the city was heavily surveilled. Through her many tears, Garcia had been able to track the getaway van almost all the way through the city. It had dropped off on a near rural road. Looking at it in a geographical perspective, there were only a small handful of places the unsubs could be.

But that’s what bothered Spencer to no end, and he knew everyone else was thinking it, too. The unsubs had been so careful for the past almost 4 months with kidnapping and surveilling. The only reason that they made their escape so easily trackable, so easily found, was because they wanted the team to come to them.

It was very clearly an ambush. Either that, or Hotch was already dead.

After some coordinating, they had finally figured everything out. It would take about an hour to get SWAT assembled, less than 45 minutes to get to the location. It was just enough time to send Anderson to the hospital to stay with you and Emily while David came back to join the team for the raid. You and David were patched into an ongoing call with Garcia and the rest of the team, helping Morgan work on tactical plans. At this point, it truly didn’t matter who was doing this, or even why. The only thing that mattered was getting Hotch back.

Emily was going to be alright. You had said the doctors were patching her up, and that her internal bleeding was minimal. David’s gear would be waiting in the car for him so that he could be suited up and ready to go the moment he arrived back at Quantico. The team needed all the help they could get. Time was of the essence. Once almost every possible tactical idea, position, formation was exhausted, there were still some moments to spare before everyone was ready to leave.

It was then that you had hung up on the group call, only to call Spencer a moment later. He excused himself, wandering down the hallway where there was less action so that he could hear you better.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey,” he replied. The adrenaline was mostly keeping his nerves at bay, but hearing the slight fear in your voice made his stomach turn. As much as he hated being away from you, Spencer knew that this was the safest option for you. You didn’t need to be included on what could very likely turn into a suicide mission. 

“How are you?” you asked tentatively.

“I’m nervous. How are you feeling right now?” he asked. “How’s your neck?”

“A little sore,” you admitted. “I’ll be okay.”

“Have the doctors look at you just in case, alright?”

“Okay, I’ll do that.”

He noticed that you had dodged the question of how you were feeling. He would come back to that in a moment, asking you something he knew would get you talking. Your voice was quieter than normal, almost shaky.

“How is Emily holding up?”

“She’s doing really well. She’s so strong. They said she’ll be out in two days if everything goes well, they just want to observe her for a little bit.”

You admired her so much, he could hear it in your voice. He knew you felt guilty for Emily’s pain, although you refused to even talk about it. You had been avoiding her, and though Spencer had tried to guide you through your guilt, you hadn’t budged much on the subject. Spending these next few days with her was going to be difficult for you.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

At this point in your relationship, he could usually read your face and subtle body cues, enough to know what was usually going on in your head. Every once in awhile you surprised him, but for the most part you were predictable. Whereas here, without those cues, with only your voice to go by, it was a lot more difficult.

“I’m worried,” you said, barely above a whisper. Spencer pushed the phone closer to his ear, as if it would actually help him hear you more clearly.

“Tell me what you’re worried about.”

He heard you scoff from the other side of the line and he suppressed a soft smile. You were so touchy sometimes.

“You know why.”

“Tell me anyways. It’ll help, you know it will. Remember, this is more.”

You sighed lightly, the sound almost crackly through the speaker.

“I’m worried about Emily. I’m worried that she’s not going to get better. I’m worried about you guys going into the field. It’s practically a suicide mission, they’re waiting for you, and-”

You drew a shaky breath.

“I’m worried about Hotch. What if he’s not okay? What if Jack has to grow up without-”

Your voice cracked, and then Spencer heard you sniffle. Hearing you cry and knowing that he wasn’t able to be there to help you gave him this awful pain in his chest, as if someone had dropped a weight squarely on top of him.

“I know,” he replied understandingly. He was just as worried as you were, about all of the same things, but he knew that in this moment he needed to be strong and level-headed for Hotch, for his team, for Jack. For you. 

“Listen to me,” he said gently but firmly. “Everything is going to be alright.”

“But what if it isn’t?”

Ever the pessimist.

“Then we’ll learn how to deal with it. We always do.”

You were quiet for a moment, the only sounds being your muffled sniffles. 

“Spencer?”

“Yes?”

“Please come home.”

No no no. The desperation in your voice weakened Spencer’s resolve. He could feel a lump forming in his throat, tears threatening to prick at his eyes. 

You knew what those words meant to him. 

He had seen it in your eyes that day in traffic, the understanding blossoming on your face. He had seen the calm that suddenly settled over you, the purpose in your voice when you had said it back to him, holding his hand reassuringly.

He thought of when he had almost let the real words slip. You hadn’t even noticed, never acknowledged it. He knew that you were scared of this, too.

He thought of how he had memorized your smile 7 months and 12 days ago on the jet when you were joking around with JJ, throwing Cheetos at her playfully. He thought of how you scrunched up your nose when you laughed, how your eyes sparkled when you were surprised or excited, how you always got the same damn snack from the vending machine every single time even though it would most definitely rot your teeth out. 

He thought of how beautiful, how intelligent, how witty and defiant and sensitive and compassionate and strong and so many other amazing things you were. He wished he had all of the time in the world to tell you those things, tell you how much he admired and adored and loved you because you definitely didn’t hear it enough.

He thought of how you had said Adam never came home. 

“Can you do something for me?” Spencer asked, his voice low. He was trying so hard not to let himself slip, not to let you know how much he was hurting, how much he wished he were right there next to you instead of doing one of the most dangerous things he had ever done. But it was best that you stayed away, best that you were safe somewhere else. 

“Anything,” you breathed.

He hadn’t expected that answer at all. You were not the kind of person to give yourself fully over to someone else like that. In that one word, you told him that you put your full trust in him. This was a very big deal for you, one that Spencer knew he couldn’t take lightly. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself from the stark realization that you really and truly loved him back.

“Wait up for me. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”


	42. The Raid, Part 1

It became more and more apparent as the time ticked by that you couldn’t stay here anymore. You had gotten control of yourself, dried your tears, and your worries and fears gave way to extreme anxiety. The doctors had looked at you, said you were okay. You still had another week or two before you could get the cast off, and that bothered you to no end. If you didn’t have it, then you wouldn’t have to stay here in this hospital room with Emily and Anderson, wouldn’t have to worry about Hotch and Spencer and your team.

You couldn’t sit still, couldn’t stop your mind from racing. You were going out of your fucking mind, what ifs flooding your brain like a track on repeat. Your team- no, your _family_ \- was putting themselves in extreme danger, and all you were doing was sitting in a random hospital room. Were you really doing the best that you could? Were you really doing everything you could to help?

Fuck it.

You couldn’t do this anymore.

“I have to go,” you told Anderson, standing up quickly out of your chair despite his protests. “Stay with Emily.”

You marched to the nurse’s desk, pulling your badge out as you went. You hated doing this, hated abusing your power like this, but this was an emergency. This was important.

“Ma’am?” you asked insistently. The woman at the desk turned to you, her face becoming more serious as she took in your demeanor. You probably looked crazy, plaster and dust still covering your clothes and hair, bandages littering your forehead and arms.

“What can I help you with?” she asked.

“I need to get this cast off as quickly as possible. I’m a federal agent. I understand that this breaks your protocol but this is a life or death situation right now.”

“We can’t just-”

“Yes, I know,” you replied frustratedly. “I am asking you to do this because someone’s life is in danger, and I need to have full use of my hand. I’ll be back later, we can reevaluate. But I need this done, and I need it done right this second. My colleagues are in the other room, they can verify this for you. But please, just help me on this one.”

After more coaxing, you were able to get her to agree. You could barely sit still while the doctor was using the saw to cut you free. The moment he was done you were up, thanking him and rushing out of the hospital to your vehicle as quickly as you could. You knew your hand was weak from disuse, your wrist even more fragile, but you couldn’t worry about that right now. You had to work through the pain.

You knew you were making an impulsive and reckless decision, but you had the address the team was headed to, and you knew they would wait outside for a few minutes before going in. You would likely be right on time. Even then, you sped as much as the speed limit would allow. They would have extra equipment for you there; you didn’t need to worry about it. Dawn would be approaching soon, within the next hour or two. It was imperative that you hurried.

You turned your lights off as you pulled up, and drove your vehicle slowly but steadily to where you knew the group would be. In the residual light of their setup and the automatic dim lights on your car, you could see that there were suddenly guns trained on you. They weren’t expecting anyone else to come; you were suspected to be a threat. Friendly fire would be a hell of a way to go out. But then they were lowering their weapons and someone ran over to your driver’s side door. Spencer yanked the door open, a mixture of anger and confusion on his face.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed at you under his breath.

“Nice to see you, too,” you countered, swinging your legs over so that you could get out of your car. But Spencer blocked you, moving so close that your knees were pressing into his stomach. 

“This is not safe. You cannot be here right now.”

His voice was low, probably so that none of your colleagues would hear how absolutely furious he was. You held up your now bare wrist to his face.

“I’m here whether you want me to be or not. Now move so I can gear up.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m not arguing with you right now,” you stated, pushing your knees further into his body. “I’m here, so let me join.”

“And Emily?”

“With Anderson.”

“If you even think for one second that I would allow-”

“Everything alright?”

You and Spencer jumped at the sound of JJ’s voice. She appeared behind him, a concerned look on her face.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reassured her, kicking Spencer in the leg almost imperceptibly as he rearranged his face to look more neutral. “I was just about to gear up.”

“No, she was not.”

“This is not the time,” you warned him.

“Hey,” JJ interjected. “She’s already here. There’s no point in arguing about it now. Let her go.”

“Yeah, let me go,” you said, echoing JJ’s words. Spencer pursed his lips before stepping back so that you could hop out of your vehicle, closing the door as softly as you could behind you.

“Nice to see you joining us,” Rossi chimed from the SWAT truck when you entered to throw on a vest. 

“Thanks, David,” you replied, grabbing one of the generic handguns and loading it. You gave Spencer a pointed look and he frowned slightly at you. He wasn’t happy, and you knew it was because you weren’t supposed to be here, weren’t supposed to be putting yourself in danger like this. But you couldn’t abandon your team, and you weren’t about to let them do this without you. You weren’t as fast as JJ or as strong as Morgan, but you were a decent shot and a solid negotiator. 

Though it wasn’t spoken, negotiation would likely not be on the table today. Most, if not all of you, were aiming to kill. You hadn’t decided if you wanted to go that route. You hadn’t felt too guilty about killing Daniel all those months ago. But that’s because he had directly hurt you. And though every person in this little abandoned office building was probably aiming to kill you, aiming to kill the people you cared about most, you still had some reservations about what this would do to you on a psychological level.

You knew that Spencer had already killed one person tonight. He may not acknowledge it, but you knew it went against his nature. Spencer didn’t believe in violence. But Spencer didn’t believe in breaking promises either, and he had made a promise to you. One that you hadn’t asked him to make, but a promise all the same. 

The team stood outside in a little huddle, verifying the plan of action even though all of you had practically memorized it. All too soon, it was time to break, time to go in. You were going to bring up the rear with Rossi while Spencer was heading closer up front with JJ. As everyone made their way to get into formation, you reached over to grab Spencer’s hand, squeezing it tightly in yours. This was an extremely dangerous, most likely volatile situation, and you didn’t want him to think that you didn’t care about him or how he felt. And though you wouldn’t admit it out loud, you were scared of what might happen if one or both of you didn’t make it out.

He didn’t look down at you as the two of you walked, but he squeezed your hand just as hard as you did his, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. Then he started tapping the back of your hand, as if to some sort of rhythm to a song that wasn’t playing. But it was too disjointed, too uneven to be any sort of song that you knew. Why would he be thinking of music at a time like this? You looked up at him confusedly. He glanced down and smiled sadly at you.

“Morse code.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing at all.”

He squeezed your hand one last time, extra hard, before separating to go up front behind Morgan. SWAT would be with you, but the BAU was leading the raid.

Even though you had studied the floor plan, it seemed like an absolute maze the further up the team went. It was only ten stories, but the expanse of the building was long enough to warrant SWAT splitting into a second group, most of them going to the other side of the building while a handful stayed with the team. It looked like some walls had been torn down while new, rickety ones were built in random places. This was planned, purposely made to confuse whoever passed through. One false step and one person could be isolated and vulnerable to being taken.

Yet the building was silent as a tomb. The seventh floor was a maintenance floor, so there was less of an open floor plan, less light filtering through. It was dark as pitch, darker than the other floors, and you immediately had a bad feeling. Morgan paused as everyone made their way through the stairwell door, and everyone paused with him.

Laughter.

A man was laughing somewhere on the floor, and it was so quiet that the sound reverberated off the walls. If the other floors had been confusing, this one was worse. You were almost barricaded like rats to go one way and one way only, despite the fact that there should be three pathways at the stairwell, not just one. Everyone was nervously looking around at each other. This was it. 

There was the slight worry of bombs or some kind of traps, but the team had profiled that whoever was behind this wasn’t about a quick death. They wanted to inflict maximum suffering on as many people as possible. Even then, the team slowly made their way through the winding hall, everyone on edge. There was light up ahead and then a sharp turn led everyone to a large, open room with very dim lighting. And there was Hotch, tied to a chair in the middle of an empty room just like Spencer, just like Emily, just like you had been.

He was sweaty, covered in dust and cuts and blood, his clothes disheveled, a gag in his mouth. And then everyone was running, rushing forward to him while he writhed in his chair. You realized very quickly that he wasn’t beckoning you closer; he was warning you to stay back.

Gunshots started going off and you ducked out of the way, trying to find the source of the sound. There were little foxholes in the walls. The unsubs had nestled themselves almost inside of the walls, out of sight, waiting for everyone to enter so that they could strike. You only had a moment to pop off a few shots before you felt a gun pressed between your shoulder blades. The gunfire ceased very quickly after that, everyone pausing to assess the bodies on the ground.

There weren’t very many people standing. Every SWAT officer that had accompanied the team was dead on the ground, and a few unsubs were down as well. But every member of the BAU was still alive with a gun at their back while Hotch sat in the middle of the room, just watching with panicked eyes.

And then a man appeared, behind some kind of false wall or maybe another fox hole, who knows, but one moment he wasn’t there and then he was. He was laughing, a gun pointed straight at Hotch’s head. That was the same laughter as before, and chills ran down your spine. He was just… an average man. Caucasian, medium build, light brown hair.

“What a happy little family,” the man sneered, kicking one of the legs of Hotch’s chair so that Hotch was facing the team a bit better. The grating sound of the chair on the tile made you jump, and you could hear the person behind you shifting around suddenly, as if they were about to shoot.

“Where’s Emily?” the man asked. You looked around the room, making eye contact with different members of your team. Who was the best option to deescalate this situation? The man had mentioned family. Everyone’s eyes fell to JJ.

“She’s at the hospital,” she replied. 

“Aw. We’ll just have to pick her up after, I guess.”

After? After what?

As much as you wished you could deny it, it was very apparent what after was. None of you were going to leave here alive. You scanned the room. It was an even match at least, you weren’t outnumbered. But you were outplayed.

“What is your name? Why are you doing this?” JJ asked. The man laughed, almost hysterically.

“I’m William Todd, but of course you wouldn’t remember any of that. As for the second question, why don’t you ask your boss?”

He ripped the gag off of Hotch, who took a moment to sort himself out.

“I don’t understand-”

“DON’T TELL ME YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU DID!” the man roared, placing the barrel of the gun right at Hotch’s temple. You winced, and you glimpsed a few of your other team members cringing away as well.

“I don’t know anything!” Hotch countered back adamantly, raising his voice.

“Agent Hotchner got my family killed,” the man said, turning back to everyone else. You frowned, trying to remember what information Malcolm and the other men had asked for. Names and places.

“How?” JJ asked gently. “What did he do?”

“What did he _do?_ He signed off on paperwork that your team filed! The police thought that I was a suspect, thought that I committed some crime because of a made-up profile. They went looking for me. And when they couldn’t find me, they killed my wife and son on ‘accident’ because of some arbitrary thing that Agent Hotchner told them.”

Was any of this true? And even if it was, why was the man blaming Hotch? It sounded like a case of incompetent local police rather than anything else.

“I don’t quite understand,” JJ said. “Did you take up the matter with the local police?”

William laughed bitterly.

“Oh, I most certainly did. And do you know what happened? They covered for their own, covered it up. Said the FBI told them to.”

“We can talk this out,” JJ started. “We can-”

“No! Because you know what the absolute worst part is, Jennifer? They never caught the guy, and even your little genius doesn’t know anything about it. I’m apparently not worthy of the attention.”

Your eyes flicked over to Spencer’s face. You knew he was trying to keep a straight face, but he looked hurt. You knew his kidnapping had been absolute hell. There was a lot he remembered, which was traumatic enough, but there was a lot that he didn’t remember. You knew it was a sore spot for him, something that he was insecure about. He was never used to not knowing or remembering something. That had hit him particularly hard. He was blaming himself right now, you just knew it. He would say “if I had just remembered, we would have never had to go through this.”

“So now,” William said, interrupting your train of thought, “Aaron gets to watch as his little family dies. Jack will be alone, just like me.”

Hotch pressed his lips together, trying to keep himself in check, but you could see the worries in his eyes. 

“We can help you find him,” JJ interjected. “We can help you find who did this.”

“Oh, it’s too late for that. Emily already gave me everything I needed. I just need to finish what I started.”

That was it?

This random man had professionals stalk you and your team for months to get revenge over something that wasn’t even your fault? You were almost enraged at that point. Why did you have to suffer for other people’s actions? 

That’s what had happened to William, though. He was just repaying the favor.

You were angry, but that was almost eclipsed by your realization that it was unlikely you were getting out of here alive. The second SWAT unit still hadn’t found you, and you noticed that the man was in a bit of a rush. He probably knew his time was quickly running out. But he couldn’t resist this, couldn’t resist watching as his long-developed plans came to fruition.

Your entire team had guns, but there was a gun trained on every single one of you.

“What do you think, Aaron? I think we’ll do… youngest to oldest. I guess that means the doctor goes first.”


	43. The Raid, Part 2

Your frightened eyes met Spencer’s as Hotch and Morgan both started to protest at the same time. William yelled over them to shut up, placing his gun at Hotch’s temple again, effectively silencing the group.

“I said what I said. Any last words, Dr. Reid?”

No. You couldn’t watch this. But you also knew that you couldn’t look away, because you knew Spencer would be looking at you. You had to be there for him until the very last second, until his very last breath. 

You had seen people die before, but you hadn’t known them like this. You hadn’t loved them like this. 

You felt like you were going to throw up. You knew you needed to keep your eyes open, keep calm, but you could feel your eyes starting to tear up anyways. Your team had mixed looks of sadness, horror. There truly was no way out of this one. Your only solace was that you were going to be next, right after him. You wouldn’t be without him for too long. 

You looked intensely at Spencer, trying to will him to understand that you loved him, trying to convey in a single glance that he shouldn’t be scared. You would be there soon; he wouldn’t be alone, wherever he went. You wanted to tell him you loved him, really and truly say those words. But now was not the time or the place. This isn’t how you wanted this to happen, like a forced goodbye. You doubted that you’d be allowed to say anything before they shot him in the head anyways.

And then Spencer opened his mouth to speak.

Except, he wasn’t looking at you at all like you thought he would be. He was staring straight at Rossi, who was standing right next to you.

“The Lord said unto Daniel, sitteth thou at my right hand, until I make thine enemies my footstool.”

You were instantly confused. As far as you knew, Jesus was the only one who sat at the right hand of God. Not Daniel.

-

JJ was sitting in her seat on the jet, mumbling lyrics to whatever was playing through her headphones under her breath.

“You know, you’re actually saying that wrong,” Spencer piped up from the seat next to her. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Why was he always sticking his nose in other people’s business?

“What?” JJ asked, pausing her music to look at him confusedly. 

“The way you pronounced ‘tune’ just now. According to the rules of phonetics in classical music, that’s actually incorrect.”

“Then how do you pronounce it?” Rossi asked from across the aisle. 

“To keep uniformity and clarity when singing, modern diction books for singers use IPA, the International Phonetic Alphabet, to keep pronunciation correct. So when singing in English, anytime you have a ‘u’ or an ‘ew’ with certain preceding consonants, you’re supposed to pronounce it with closed central vowels.”

“What’s it supposed to sound like, then?” Derek chimed in.

“So let’s say you have the word news. You would pronounce it like ‘nyooze’ instead, starting with the harsher ‘e’ sound and then the ‘oo’ sound immediately after. But the phonetic alphabet doesn’t spell it with an e or a double o. It looks more like this.”

He grabbed a piece of paper, sketching quick letters before showing it to the group.

iu

Before anyone else had time to speak, he was going off again about it.

“The rule only applies to those vowels after certain consonants. Most classical musicians and performers use the mnemonic ‘Daniel Sitteth’ to remember which letters affect the sound of the vowel.”

What would anyone even say to that. You resisted the urge to sigh.

“Hey, Morgan,” Emily called. He looked over at her.

“What are you doing next Tyoozeday?” she asked with a mischievous smile.

Morgan grinned back.

“I think my car note is dyoo. What about you, JJ?”

“I think Henry has an appointment at nyoon.”

“That’s wrong!” Spencer interjected. “You can’t use it with the double o.”

“Oh my god JJ, get it right!” you sighed exaggeratedly with a smile. “Your career as a classical musician is over. Boo! Off the stage!” 

You threw a Cheeto at her and it landed in her hair, getting tangled in the loose strands. She turned and giggled, fishing for the Cheeto you threw at her only to toss it back at you. It bounced off your face and you laughed, throwing more of them at her in retaliation. She chucked them back at you until a stray puff bounced off of JJ’s shoulder and onto Hotch’s case file, leaving a nasty orange stain on the front. The two of you ceased your laughter immediately as everyone else in the jet froze. Hotch paused a long moment before brushing the chip off of his file and into the aisle. You and JJ slowly got out of your seats after awhile, getting on your hands and knees to pick up the mess you made while trying not to giggle too loudly.

You were on the way off the jet when Rossi spoke up.

“I like your book, Reid. Is it nyoo?”

While Spencer looked absolutely annoyed, everyone else burst into another fit of laughter.

-

Daniel Sitteth.

Spencer had the best vantage point of the room. You couldn’t see behind some of your team, the angles were strange for everyone, but Spencer could see everyone in the room except for the person with the gun at his back.

iu

That’s what he was saying. That’s what the room looked like. Hotch was the dot on the i, William the tail. Rossi was the closest to Hotch, next to you, and then JJ, Morgan, and Spencer followed the line. 

You thought back to Morgan’s tactical training; how do you get out of trouble when you’re flanked? It was extremely difficult to maneuver, but it could be done. Usually the people that were cornered in the middle would break off into two groups and try to surround the other group. There were too few of you; that wouldn’t work. One of the few ways to counter a flank was an echelon formation. 

The team could rearrange, form half of a ‘v’ shape so that it gave everyone a good view of the room. The person at the tip of the ‘v’ is usually the first person to fire and the first person that’s shot at, like a sort of distraction while the other members of the echelon either fire as well or go into a different formation of attack.

Because of their vantage points, Spencer and Rossi would be the two ends of the echelon, with Spencer being the distraction while Rossi circled back around to get to William while everyone else subdued their personal gunman. 

This was extremely dangerous, because the second that Spencer moved, the guns trained on everyone else would likely become trained on him. Your heart sank in trepidation. But you didn’t have time to think about it too long because Spencer was already moving, ducking and rolling to the ground. You immediately hit the floor, turning around to shoot at the man who was behind you and then directly going for the man who had been standing behind Rossi. There were multiple gunshots, the sounds of screams, one or two that you thought you recognized but most that you didn’t.

You were still on the ground when the shooting stopped. You whipped your head around for Spencer, trying to find him now that the chaos had mostly died down. He was standing behind Hotch’s cahir, gun pointed at William who was on the ground, screaming in pain while Rossi held him down. You quickly turned to the other side of the room. Derek was holding his shoulder in one of his hands, blood dripping everywhere. JJ looked fine, stunned if anything.

In a few split seconds, it was all over.

-

Derek was alright. The gunshot was superficial, and had only grazed the top part of his shoulder. You had killed two men today, and the worst part is that you almost didn’t feel bad about it. It was your team or theirs, and you chose your own. 

Something about it felt so… anticlimactic. All this work, put into torturing the team and Hotch, and for what? Misguided anger was a hell of a bitch, and especially dangerous for a man like William who had money. 

You had learned from the interrogations that happened later that William had hired a tactical assassin to help plan this entire thing while the tactical man hired other people to surveil the team and report back to him. William had never actually killed anyone, and from the body count it looked like there was one person missing; the tactical lead. He had probably known what a bad idea the plan was, what a loose cannon William could be. Considering the man didn’t have a personal problem with the BAU, the bounty hunt for him wouldn’t commence for at least a week since he wasn’t seen as a danger.

But now, _finally,_ everyone could relax. After the hospital visits and the paperwork and the interrogation, you and Spencer didn’t get to his place until closer to noon. Everyone was exhausted; you had all been awake for almost 36 hours. 

You wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch or in Spencer’s bed, but you knew he wouldn’t like the residual dust and dirt and blood on your clothes to get over his things. So the both of you silently made your way to his bathroom, stripping and showering in the peace and quiet. Spencer ran his fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp lightly. You closed your eyes and sighed, the feeling of his hands and the hot water on your skin almost lulling you to sleep.

And then he was kissing your forehead softly, reaching behind you to turn the water off. You didn’t even bother putting clothes on; you dried yourself off and snuck under the covers. Spencer did the same, cuddling you from behind, throwing his arm around your torso.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” you mumbled. You felt the rise and fall of his chest as he sighed.

“Me, too.”

And then, for the first time in what felt like a very long time, you slept peacefully.


	44. .. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..-

-A month later-

Saturday mornings were always your favorite. There was no threat of work, and no elegiac feeling that Sundays would give you. Just you and Spencer and a full day of nothing ahead, a full day of possibilities and fun. Maybe the two of you would go to an old bookstore or a library or see a show, or maybe you would spend all day in bed.

But in the mornings you were always curled up on the couch together, drinking coffee. Spencer took a sip from his new favorite mug before untangling himself from your grasp to stand up. You figured he had too pee or something, because he definitely still had coffee left. He made his way over to your record player, purposely standing in the way so that you couldn’t see what record he was choosing. He didn’t use the record player much, but you knew that he liked the old-fashioned crackly noise it made, the way the little imperfections shone through on the vinyl.

He put the needle on and made his way back over to you. Shortly, the sound of your singular classical music vinyl, your French one, filled the room softly. You expected Spencer to sit back down, but instead he stood in front of you, holding his hand out.

“Are you asking me to dance?”

He smiled softly.

“Only if you’ll say yes.”

You took his hand, placing your mug on the coffee table so that you could join him in one of the empty spaces of your living room. You swayed back and forth for a little while, and then the next song started to play. A waltz.

Suddenly, Spencer was guiding you backwards. You clutched his shoulder in surprise, feeling off balanced by the way he was pushing you to move. He was actually dancing.

You were used to leading when you danced, that’s just how you were. Being guided backwards was extremely uncomfortable and unsettling for you. But you held on tightly to Spencer anyways, trying to get a feel for his pace so that you could dance more smoothly with him. You got the hang of it quickly, and soon enough it felt like the two of you were floating around your apartment. You grinned up at him, admiring his soft smile and the sparkle in his eyes. He had learned this just for you. 

The song was over too quickly but he held you closely afterwards, wrapping his arms around you as you did the same to him. You rested your face onto his chest, hearing his strong heartbeat there. Your own heart swelled at the sound.

It was this feeling you couldn’t contain. You had felt it for a very long time, and you were scared to put it into words, because then it would be real. It would mean something. But it already was real, already meant something to both of you, no matter how long you had tried to fight it. Despite your anxiety, you pulled away from Spencer, cupping his cheeks in your hands to make sure that he was looking down at you. You stared him straight in the eyes, your stomach filled with butterflies as you opened your mouth to say what you had been wanting to say for quite a long time now.

“I love you.”

He grinned, taking your face in his hands and leaning down to kiss you enthusiastically. He drew back, breathless but still smiling.

“I love you, too.”


	45. Thank You!

Thank all of you so much for going on this journey with me! This is my first fully completed/published story, and I’m so glad that I got to share this experience with all of you.

I promise I won’t be going away anytime soon! I’m currently working on 3, a Spencer Reid/Unsub Reader fic that I’ll be updating semi-regularly. That being said, I’m plenty open to any suggestions or any ideas that some of you may have for a new story! Feel free to comment on this chapter or message me separately about anything you’d like to see, and I’ll see what I can do.

On that note, feel free to reach out if you ever need anything. I’m always here for you guys.

Once again, I just want to thank all of you for your support. I can’t tell you how much every single one of you matters to me.

See you soon!

Lots of love,

Marli13


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